Thanks Part Two: A Zev & FCousland short story
by Leilana.is.dtf
Summary: The story continues as both Zevran and his Warden try to cope with feelings neither one of them want to admit having. Zevran learns of the perils and joys of being a dragon hunter. Will all his newfound skill be enough to help defeat the blight?
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks - Part Two**

_**Author's note: Aloha! **Thanks to everyone who has waited for the next installment. I've been extremely busy with work and still have a lot of projects to finish, but I plan on submitting at least one chapter every week. As usual, this is still a fairly rough draft. The final story probably won't be edited for quite some time - so please excuse the mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy!_

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><p>The rancid, acrid stench of spoiled eggs, urine and rust was starting to affect even his usually tolerant sense of smell. Zevran had seen the Warden grimace after they slaughtered the first three or four dozen dragonlings the previous hour, so he glanced at Tenniel to see how she was faring. He smiled, glad to see she had reached into her pack for a cloth to wrap around her nose and mouth. It was almost as if she had read his mind. She handed him a piece of scented linen, and he was grateful to see the sympathetic smile in her eyes.<p>

"Ah, I see my Warden has come prepared, as always," he complimented her.

He really didn't want to have to play tough. It was bad enough that the gloomy, foggy cave was filled with constant scratching sounds that put everyone on edge. The clitter-clatter of tiny, clawed feet against the walls and roof of the cavern was like an annoying itch between his shoulder blades. And he couldn't scratch it.

"Would you like one too, Walter?" he heard her ask.

"What? No, no, I'm fine. I've been through worse," the bulky hunter replied, holding up a raggedy and blood-splattered piece of parchment. He shrugged at her before glancing back at his sketch of the cave network. It was over a century old, but not much had changed about the place other than a few more piles of rubble along the main passage.

"Worse than _this_? This is as bad as being inside of a dragon's gut!" Zevran spat before tying the ends of the lavender-scented cloth around the back of his head underneath his thick helmet. He pushed his helm back down and stretched his arms out.

The hillsman gave a deep, throaty chuckle as he placed the map into one of the pouches attached to his belt and pulled out another folded piece of vellum. "Just you wait until we get into the heart of these caves. They'll be piles of dragon shit twice as tall as me. If either of you make it out of here without vomiting up your breakfast, even _I'll_ be impressed."

"Oh, give us lowlanders a break! I grew up in Antiva City's leather-making district. Rotting flesh and piles of shit I can deal with. The eye-stinging aroma of fermented dragon piss mixed in with the rest; not so much," Zevran retorted flippantly.

"You'll get used to it soon enough," Walter harrumphed before returning to examine his newer map.

"How much farther do you think we have to go? I thought we'd start to see some larger dragons by now…" the newest clansman wondered aloud, his words slightly muffled with the cloth covering half his face.

The Warden put her small pack on her shoulders again before replying to Zevran's question. "I suppose we should be done in another hour or so. The inside of this mountain can't be that big, eh, Walter?"

"Hmmph. Let's hope so. Reggie's making meat pie and I don't want to miss supper." The Avvarian grinned widely, thinking about the pleasant meal that awaited them upon their return to the keep. "She'll be sending Wilton, Roderick and the dogs up after us soon. With any luck, we'll have some good hides and 'bone to carry back with us on the cart. And some meat pies to fill my belly before sundown." He smacked the armor covering his ample midsection and laughed at Tenniel's incredulous stare.

"How can you even _think_ about food in a place like this? Your stomach must be made of rock…"

"Aye, just like the caves I've lived in; don't ye think it's fitting?" he teased her, and Zevran couldn't help but smile at their easy camaraderie.

They walked along in silence for a long while through the dark maze, boot soles treading softly against the volcanic rock. The most experienced dragon hunter took up the rear of their party, one of the Dalish mage's smaller witch-lights strapped to the front of his helmet like some mockery of a three-eyed swamp creature. Tenniel was in the lead, and Zevran stopped suddenly as he noticed her pause and raise her left palm up next to her face.

"Sneaky little bastards," she whispered.

"There's at least three behind us." Walter readied his crossbow and twisted his walking stick, pulling a long, sharp sword out of the adjoining piece of wood to set beside him in case the creatures got too close.

"And four… no, five in front," Tenniel replied with a wicked smile. "We're in luck this time. I think a drake's decided to join the fray."

"I'm ready," Zevran reached for his swords. As soon as Walter let the bottom of his walking stick fall to the cave floor with a loud clang, the beasts were upon them, roaring with displeasure at the invasion of their lair.

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><p>"Why do you suppose the little ones are so good at hiding in shadows? They act just like assassins." Zevran queried as they all sat down to rest and clean their blades.<p>

"Yeah, like really bad, third-rate assassins. The sneak attacks are a game for them. But High Dragons lay so many damned eggs! It's a good thing for us that the young are so reckless, even if they are sneaky. Until they get bigger and start breathing fire. Then they just lumber into the fight and use brute force like a rabid dog." Walter replied. He was sitting on a rock, and Zevran watched as he slid his blade in place and brought the two halves of his walking stick together with a sharp twist.

_Anybody with a cane who looks as fit as he does is probably hiding something, _the Antivan thought to himself while sipping on some fresh water. _Hidden weapons, hidden lairs, hidden secrets…_

"All the more reason to be grateful for a good ice blade, don't you think?" Tenniel interrupted his thoughts.

"Aye, and that was downright vicious. You just about split that drake in two, and spoiled its hide, Ten-Ten. Poor bastard didn't even stand a chance, what with the poisoned frost blade _and_ the frozen lightning bomb." Walter wrinkled his nose in disgust. The drake's corpse was steaming, the chunks of its flesh already melting in the warm, humid cave.

"Yeah, yeah. Perhaps I was a bit overzealous. But better that than getting scorched. Remember last year? My eyebrows never did grow back right after that…"

Walter guffawed and slapped his thigh, laughing at their shared memory. "Serves you right for trying to take my kill, lass!"

"Take _your_ kill? The damned thing was on top of you, trying to tear through your armor. You ought to be glad I distracted it so you could disembowel it as it leapt up at me!" she retorted with a smirk.

"As the Lady of the Skies is my witness, I am grateful for your assistance. Even if it wasn't entirely necessary at the time." He held up his hand and waggled his fingers before Tenniel could interrupt him again. "And… I'm very glad to see that fighting men and darkspawn hasn't spoiled your dragon-hunting skills…"

Zevran listened to their friendly banter for several more minutes as he cleaned off his blades, applied more poison, and brushed the dried blood off of his armor. He noticed how the dragon blood congealed and flaked off much more quickly and easily than darkspawn or even human blood. After putting the venom away, he was surprised to find that he felt just as eager and energetic as he did when they first entered the dark, gaping mouth of this large cave. The Antivan knew that at least two dozen dragonlings had been felled by his blades alone. Normally, he would be numb with fatigue by now. _Perhaps this energy is normal for Dragon Hunters. No wonder Tenniel has always killed more than the rest of our party combined._

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><p>"You're doing great, by the way." The Warden reached behind her, groping for his arm, which was offered willingly. She squeezed his hand as they took a short break from walking up the steep incline.<p>

"Hmmm?" he replied, the prickly feeling between his shoulder blades had started again, and he found himself distracted. They had fought through another four dozen dragonlings and three drakes and Zevran was starting to get hungry. He hoped their hunting trip would be over soon.

A steady stream of snowmelt had cut a channel through the cave floor over the centuries, and unlike the lower levels of the cave, the section of the passageway the party was currently resting at wasn't quite as warm or steam-filled. Light was filtering in from some cracks in the cave ceiling up ahead. They had passed a few outcroppings of rock that were encrusted with tiny green gems that reminded him of the Warden's eyes, but they hadn't run into any dragons for several minutes.

Tenniel spoke softly but firmly. "You're doing very well, Zevran. Even better than I had expected. But then again, I've seen you fight. You were good before, and _now_ you're _great_."

"Aye, dragon-hunting comes naturally to you. You even know how to roll and dodge their hind claws, too. Not many can catch the knack of that so quickly," Walter agreed. The highlander sat on a boulder and rested his leg atop the shorter rock next to him. "We haven't even had to use any potions yet."

Zevran took off his helmet and tilted his head to the side, curious about the strange vibration he was feeling. It came from directly above them. "Thank you," he mumbled as an afterthought to their compliments, wondering what the distracting noise was.

"You feel it too?" The Warden stepped beside him and whispered into his ear.

"Something is… it's like a dull hum, like something's making the whole cave rumble," he answered her, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

Tenniel glanced at his face, illuminated by the dull glow of the witch-light and wanted to kiss him. Instead, she flicked her tongue out and licked the bottom tip of his earlobe before quickly stepping around to his other side, a mischievous smile on her face. Zevran narrowed his eyes and gave her a playful growl, baring his teeth at her. He then crossed his arms and leaned casually against the rock wall, waiting for her or the Avvarian to tell him what was going on.

"There's a high dragon flying around up there. When she first wakes up, she flaps her wings for a bit to get the blood flowing. That's the sound we're hearing from above. The rest of the beasties live throughout whatever cave system the high dragon's claimed as her nest, but you can always bet that the topmost part of any cave with an opening will be _her_ main lair. That way, she can fly out for hunting, or sun-bathing, or whatever else she wants to do. She's probably getting ready to leave soon."

"_She_? That's right, _all_ the flying dragons are females…" Zevran had never bothered to learn about the fearsome creatures, since they seldom showed up near low-lying areas such as his native city. He was intrigued by everything he had heard the past few days, and remembered Walter's words, '_we become more like them so we can fight them most effectively_.'

"And as soon as any other females are mature enough to grow wings, the high dragon kicks them out of the cave so they must find their own lair. Or die trying," Walter added, checking his map again. The hillsman reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a stick of writing charcoal.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not such a bad parent after all, compared to that, eh?" Tenniel leaned against the cave wall close to Zevran, their hips touching. She wondered why she felt this inane urge to touch him so often lately, as if to reassure herself that he was real and there beside her. It was a strange feeling, but she had no idea what to do about it except go with the flow. Her stomach growled, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, wishing they could have a moment alone back in the cabin again instead of having to exterminate dragons. Even if said extermination did seem to put her mind at ease.

They watched Walter add some scribbles to his well-worn map, and she mentally chided herself for giving in when Zevran put his arm around her waist. Tenniel sighed when the Antivan stepped in front of her and caressed her jaw line through the linen scarf with his thumb and the back of his fingers.

"What are you thinking about, my emerald-eyes?" He gave her an intense stare, and wished they weren't bloodstained and stuck in a foul-smelling dragon lair with Ser Walter nearby. His Warden seemed more relaxed and easy-going, and she looked mysterious and alluring with only her eyes showing.

_Does he feel the same way…?_ She wondered to herself as his eyes narrowed. Tenniel realized she hadn't answered him, and she smiled at his impatience. She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing him through the fabric of her face covering. "Let's wait a bit. No need to jump into the thick of things while she's still here. We wait until she leaves, battle all the drakes and any younglings in there, and then ambush her when she returns. Right, Walter?"

"Mmhmm. The fact that she hasn't sent any others out to thwart us yet means she doesn't think we're much of a real threat. And _that_ means that most of her younglings and the eggs are up there in her main chamber."

"Ugh… we're in for a nasty bit of work, then." Tenniel took off her pack again and pulled a yellow napkin embroidered with cheerful-looking green clovers out of the middle compartment. She unwrapped a few strips of lamb jerky and crackers and offered some to Zevran.

Walter chuckled at the sight of her nibbling on jerky underneath her face scarf several minutes later. "You know, you two lowlanders are just going to lose that snack when we get to the main lair."

"Maybe, maybe not. But right now, I'm starved. Can't think straight when my stomach's growling. "

Zevran nodded at her and bit into a strip of seasoned lamb jerky. "She's a Warden, and she's always hungry."

"Oh? And what's your excuse?" She poked him in the ribs and giggled when the assassin shrugged at her.

"You get hungry more often now than before you became a Warden?" Walter asked.

"Yeah, Alistair said it's a Warden thing. Not sure why, though." It was her turn to shrug.

The brawny Avvarian looked back at his map and tugged on his beard with a puzzled expression on his face. "Hmmm… that doesn't add up."

"What? My getting hungry…?"

"No, no. Not that. This map. There should have been another cavern entrance on the other side of this wall here." He gestured behind his shoulder. "See, this pathway where we're walking on is an old lava tube. The ice melt has cut a small channel in it, but eons ago, a bigger water source hollowed out all these other cave spots in the mountain. And only a decade ago, I'm fairly certain there was an opening to another, bigger room. But we haven't run into anything like that. Must've caved in and been covered up completely." Walter sighed and put away his map. "Oh well, not to worry. Onward and upward. You two pups ready?"

"Always!" Zevran and Tenniel replied, in unison. They smiled at each other and chuckled.

As Zevran watched the Warden shake out her now-empty napkin and put it in her pack next to some potions, he couldn't help but wonder again at the recent turn of events. If anyone else would've tried to call him a 'pup', they'd receive a bruise or two for their trouble. But somehow, hearing it from the burly highlander just seemed, well, acceptable. _That clever barbarian never did tell me how old he really is…._

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><p>"Fuck!" Tenniel was bent over, placing her hands on her thighs for support as she leaned against a large boulder. All three members of the hunting party were panting with exertion.<p>

Zevran took off his helmet and the scarf covering his nose and mouth as he eyed the fog that hovered a few inches above the cavern floor. The entire pathway from the main opening of the cave was littered with dragonlings and drake corpses all the way to the back wall where they had finished the last two off. "That was… intense."

"To say the least. We almost ran out of poison, and I lost my walking stick somewhere in the mists. I was afraid I'd have to rip my peg leg off and beat the monsters off with that!" Walter rolled his eyes, and all three hunters were caught up in a fit of laughter at the images that statement brought to their minds.

Tenniel rubbed her leg and winced, putting a damper on their cheery mood. "Oh, wow. That last little bastard's teeth almost made it through my leg armor."

"You must be more careful, Tenniel. You keep running into the thick of things before we're quite done with the last group. It is difficult to guard your back if you flit about all the time." Zevran chided her, gesturing eloquently before putting one hand on his hip to emphasize his point.

The Warden didn't want to argue with him, especially when he was probably right about it all. She was so used to fighting alone at a certain level above the rest of her party, and now she would have to learn how to work with another fighter who was just as good – if not better – than she was. Tenniel clenched her jaw stubbornly for a moment, and then relented, relaxing her shoulders as she stared at her lover.

"Yes. You're right. I suppose I do have a tendency to… flit, as you say. I run off without thinking about where my comrades want to be. And I'm sorry, Zevran. Forgive me. I will do my best to overcome that bad habit." Tenniel took a few more deep breaths before crossing her arms and idly tapping her fingers, awaiting a response from the blond assassin.

Zevran looked at her for a few moments, pleased to see the sincerity in her eyes and amused by her impatience. "Apology accepted, _mi amora_. You know your safety is my only concern."

Ser Walter interrupted them with a loud snort. He stared at Tenniel and her Antivan companion incredulously for a moment, then broke into a wide grin before laughing again.

"What's so damned funny now, eh?" She glared at the Avvarian and yanked the scarf from her face.

"Oh, it's nothing. Congratulations, Zevran. You must be quite an amazing fellow, if you can get _her_ to apologize for anything."

"That's a bald-faced lie! I apologize… sometimes!" the Warden stammered awkwardly before she, too, succumbed to Walter's infectious laughter.

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><p>For the next several minutes, Tenniel and Zevran rummaged through the carcasses and odd piles of assorted goods that dragons always seemed to accumulate. Several precious gemstones, various weapons and a few sections of weapons-grade dragonbone were salvaged, in addition to many hides. Walter lay against some drakeskin they had piled up on one corner of the ground, waiting for the dogs and their cart to arrive so they could journey back to the keep. He kept watching the cave opening, wary for any sign that the high dragon was returning.<p>

"Found your walking stick!" the Warden yelled, waving the sword in the air. Zevran watched the sun's rays glint against the blade before he returned to admiring the view outside of the cave opening.

"It's a good thing there's plenty of fresh air coming from that hole. Or else I probably would have lost my snack, what with the huge dung heaps against the wall. 'Tis somewhat colder in here than normal lairs."

"Mmhmm. I do not mind a bit of a cool breeze if it keeps the air breathable, so to speak. This dragon-hunting business is not so bad after all." He walked silently towards where she knelt on the ground, watching her back as if he was stalking prey.

Tenniel turned around and smiled up at him when he stood beside her with his hand outstretched. "Trying to sneak up on me? Tsk, tsk, tsk. For shame, assassin! I will not fall for your tricks again," she said, remembering the time he startled her while she was cleaning her blades.

"Tricks? Never! You are not my enemy, and have no need to fear any stealthy skills of mine, my lady," he retorted with a smirk.

"Oh, so it's 'my lady' now? _That_ doesn't sound suspicious at all..."

"Oh, come now. You cannot begrudge a rogue for admiring the beautiful view."

She grasped his hand for support, stood up and dusted her hands against her greaves before glancing through the cave opening again. "Yes, if it weren't for the filthiness and smell of dragon leavings, this would make a fair retreat. It _is_ a very beautiful view."

Zevran moved closer to her and placed his arm around her waist. "Yes, but I was not referring to the view. This wondrous countryside pales in comparison to you, my dear."

"You are _such_ a charmer! Seriously, have you put some sort of Antivan Crow spell on me or something? I swear, what Walter said was right. I fear I am becoming more… pliant. Or… oh, I don't know!" She sighed and gently pushed the Antivan's arm before moving away from him, frustrated at not being able to put her feelings into words.

"Tenniel… what's wrong?" He was puzzled by her behavior.

"No, it's not you, Zevran. Or, it is, but… no, it's not your fault. I just… sometimes I feel like I'm losing part of myself. These past couple days… the more time I spend with you, the more I like it. I want you… I _need _you. But you… I don't know what to do. This is just not like me. Tenniel Cousland yields to no one! Do you understand? What will I do when you're _gone_?"

He watched her step backwards, and to him, it felt like someone was trying to pull her away. _How dare she doubt me! Does she not understand that she is my bonded now? _He reached out for her, even as his brow constricted in anger.

"¡_Mujera loca_! When I am gone…" he watched horrified, as she stumbled. Tenniel's arms flailed wildly and her mouth opened in surprise as something seemed to grab hold of her left ankle. Zevran moved forward, trying to reach for her, but it was too late.

The sound of her screams as she fell into the hidden fissure was the most frightening thing he had ever heard. The dull thump, the sickening crunch and the silence that followed turned his heart to ice.

"Tenniel! Tenniel!" he yelled. The silence seemed to mock him.

He hadn't even finished his sentence.

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><p>Mujera loca = Crazy woman<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks - Part Two**

_**Author's note: Aloha! **Ah, the best-laid plans... of course, it's been about six weeks since I submitted the first chapter. Work is my number one priority. So, no more promises. I will simply write what I can, when I can. As usual, this is still a fairly rough draft. The final story probably won't be edited for quite some time - so please excuse the mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated. Please review if you can. Enjoy!_

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><p><em>No. I've got to put some space between us. Can't think straight when we're touching. Just walk backwards a little, Ten-Ten. One foot behind the other. That's right. Step once, step twice.<em>

A horrible feeling of vertigo gripped her as the heel of her left boot landed on nothing. Usually, she would have simply hopped forward with the other foot, but that one had landed on a pile of rags that wasn't supporting her weight and she was now off-balance. Down she fell, lurching one way, then the other. The Warden tried in vain to grab hold of the edge of the fissure on her way down, but it was slippery with grime.

_I really should pay more attention to where I put my feet in a fog-filled cave floor._

Tenniel screamed as her elbows, knees and hips slammed against the walls of the crevice. She felt a brief but sharp, stabbing pain against her ankle, then her left hip slammed against some rocks as she fell even further down.

_This is definitely going to hurt tomorrow._

She opened her mouth to take another breath air, but the wind was knocked out of her and made a bad situation worse. As her gloved hands instinctively tried to grab onto whatever outcropping of rock was available, she hoped it would stop or at least slow her haphazard descent, but it all slipped out of her grasp rather quickly.

Darkness assailed her, and she panicked. The Warden screamed again, right before something crunched beneath her and she fell on her side against something soft and yielding. A creature gurgled at her in its last death throes, its spine having been broken by the impact of her body falling onto it.

_Maker, save me. I think I've fallen into a bottomless pit of dragonlings, and I can't get up…_

She was still falling, but more slowly now, slipping against wet rock and animal carcasses – her left fingers closed around a piece of pelvic bone at one point and she didn't want to think too clearly about what it might have belonged to. Her head cracked against stone, but right before she blacked out, the Warden heard him calling for her.

"Tenniel! Tenniel!" Zevran screamed. The panic in his voice almost matched the terror she felt as she finally slipped into oblivion.

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><p><em>It's a warm summer night, and the stars are bright with no clouds in sight. Various insects are swarming lazily, darting in and out amongst the torchlight with the gentle sea breeze. The air is humid and thick with the smell of lavender from the garden. A young noblewoman and a dark-haired squire lounge on a stone bench in the courtyard of Castle Cousland as a nearby fountain gurgles cheerfully.<em>

"_So, what do you think, Nate? Should I follow Ser Walter up to the mountains next week, or should I just stay home like he and Regina keep telling me?"_

"_I dunno. Do what you want. They can't make you stay. No one can, right? You've always gone where you want…"_

"_Yeah, you're right. Just because I'm betrothed now, doesn't mean I can't keep fighting and adventuring, right?"_

"_That's the spirit! I was worried about you, Tenniel. After Fergus' wedding, you seemed, well… different. More down. I thought maybe something was wrong. I was thinking about coming back to visit you when my father returns to your family's castle after the Antivan trading expedition next month, you know. If you weren't going to go up to the Frostbacks again, that is."_

"_I'm alright, Nate. No worries."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes! Really, I'm fine. I was… in a mood, I guess. Probably just miffed at the prospect of having to wear huge skirts, corsets and those outrageous Orlesian head pieces. Nothing to worry about. Everything's fine now," she insisted._

_Nathaniel Howe locked his dark eyes with hers and placed his hand against the forearm of her bright blue silk blouse. He gazed at her for a few seconds before nodding, as if to reassure himself that she was indeed her old self again. "Alright. You know, you can tell me anything, Tenniel. I hope we'll always be friends. Even if we don't have much in common anymore…"_

"_Thanks, Nate. And we _will_ remain friends. No matter what. Even if your father gives me the creeps…" They both chuckled at her remark, and he slowly moved his hand away from her forearm._

"_And I'm definitely going to go to the mountains. I know you hate it, but I love the fresh air up there, and Walter says they'll probably see some dragons this year!"_

_Nathaniel laughed with her and gave a mock shudder. "Sounds absolutely dreadful! You'd better be careful. But I can tell you're looking forward to it. And I guess I'll see you in Kingsway, then, right?"_

"_You betcha! Make sure you stay safe, too. The Free Marches are certainly not the most civilized area to train in. But I suppose anywhere your father isn't around is pretty good, eh? And yes, I promise to be back here by Kingsway. I wouldn't miss the archery contest for the world. I know you'll do great… I've seen you practice lately. You're getting really good!"_

"_Yeah, almost as good as you, Tenniel…" he replied, but his words were cut off at the harsh thud of booted heels stomping across the flagstones towards them. The two teenagers froze at the sound of Eleanor Cousland's concerned voice._

"_There you are! What're you two doing out here in the courtyard? Tenniel, for shame! Start behaving like a lady. 'Tis unseemly to go off with another young man alone in the dark when you're betrothed to the Duke's son!"_

"_Yes, mother. I know. Nate's a dear friend…" she retorted, then sighed, her shoulders drooping as she registered the stern look on her mother's heavily made-up face. The torchlight was low, but no one could mistake the Teyrna's disapproving scowl._

"…_and I apologize for putting us in an awkward position. Nate, let us retire to the sitting room with Lady Regina, Mother Mallol and the other squires. There are too many bugs out here attracted to the torchlight anyway. I'll meet you there in a few minutes after I freshen up."_

"_Alright," he replied, and stepped quickly away before the Teyrna could scold him as well._

_Her mother stared at her for a few moments before smiling wistfully. "Look at you, all grown up. So proud, so beautiful. You know, this is the last time I ever got to tell you something that you actually listened to, when our lives weren't in jeopardy?" _

_Eleanor's voluminous violet skirts swayed as the breeze ruffled through them, and as Tenniel turned to look out across the castle walls, the landscape gradually became blurry._

"_Mother?" the dream shifted, and now lucid, Tenniel looked down at herself as the blue blouse shifted into her familiar drakeskin armor._

"_Oh, mother. There is so much I wanted to tell you…" she dropped down to her knees, suddenly giving in to overwhelming feelings of despair and regret._

"_Hush, I know. I know everything now. And I forgive you, and I understand why you didn't let your father and I know we had two more grandchildren," her mother continued._

"_Oh, Maker. I'm so sorry!"Tenniel Cousland sobbed, the sound of her falling tears a pale imitation of the fountain bubbling forth just inside the breezeway. For once, her Fade-dream had started out in an idyllic environment. But it had already become gloomy._

_The Teyrna chided her firmly but consolingly. "Shhhh, time is short. All is forgiven. Let it all go, pup. Enjoy each moment while you can. Ferelden is depending on you. The lives of your family, your children, they all depend on you. You have to go, now. Get up, Tenniel." Fade-Eleanor reached her arm out towards her daughter, beckoning her to rise._

_Tenniel felt like her limbs had been infused with lead, and wondered why it was so hard for her to move. She opened her mouth to say something more, but she found herself unable to speak. The courtyard was starting to turn dark, and the image of her mother was fading right before her eyes…_

"_You must get up, Tenniel. Everyone needs you. Even your man, Zevran needs you. What would he do without you to care for? Get up, Tenniel. Tenniel!"_

_Darkness consumed everything._

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><p>Everything was dark. The same pitch black nothingness taunted her whether her eyes were open or closed. A stream was flowing nearby, and it sounded eerily similar to the fountain that had been in the Cousland Castle's courtyard. She could also hear a low murmuring from above, like the sound of muffled voices.<p>

Tenniel felt a bead of sweat slip down between her breasts. It was extremely hot and humid. The Warden's first action was to move the lavender cloth that covered her face so she could perhaps breathe a bit more easily. That's when she heard it. An unmistakable scratching sound, the clatter of tiny claws against the rocks directly behind her.

She sat up and prepared to stand, wincing at a sharp pain in her right ankle. She tested her weight against it and quickly realized that she would not be able to climb back up the rock crevice on her own.

_Holy Andraste, please give me strength. Don't let me die in this dark hole with a bunch of ravenous dragonlings. Please don't let Zevran and Walter abandon me! _She took a deep breath and mentally chided herself for thinking so negatively. _Don't panic, _she commanded.

_Kill, don't think. _She remembered Ser Walter's words and smiled to herself, glad that he insisted on her learning how to fight while blindfolded. _There will be times when you won't be able to see. Learn to fight with your other senses. Hear your enemy, follow every move. _Feel_ when to strike. Kill, don't think._

Instinct took over, and her uncanny speed was boosted even more by a heart-pounding burst of adrenaline as she reached for her swords. Just as the hatchling tried to leap for her from the rocks, she swung both of her swords in the direction of its screeching sound. The Warden felt the force of her poisoned blade cleave something in two, and heard the thuds as two large chunks of flesh hit the ground near her feet. She stepped back tentatively, feeling the cave wall for support. Tenniel was satisfied that her would-be attacker was dead, but she was even more wary of falling into another unseen chasm.

"Tenniel! Tenniel, is that you?"

"Zevran!" she replied shakily. Her head was starting to ache and her ankle was throbbing, but the pain was no match for the sheer joy she felt at hearing his voice. Tenniel shielded her eyes against the bright lamplight that suddenly appeared above her and tried to catch a glimpse of someone's – anyone's face.

"I am here, my Warden," Zevran reassured her.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, lass?" Walter queried.

She heard Terri's happy bark and knew she'd been out for a while if the dogs were there. "I'm … there's dragonlings down here. I killed one, but there are probably more. And it's pitch black without any light from the outside."

"Well, of course it is, Lady Obvious. You're in a cave."

"I… fuck you, Walter!" She yelled, and then laughed at the absurdity of her predicament.

"Aye, she's alright, then." Walter mumbled to someone.

Tenniel took another deep breath before replying. "But I've hurt my ankle. I don't know if it's broken or just twisted, but I can't climb back up on my own."

Zevran answered her without any hesitation, "We have some rope. I am coming down to get you. So sit tight, and be on the lookout for any more stray dragonlings."

Her eyes were adjusting to the faint glow of the lamplight, and she could see that she was in no danger of falling anywhere else. She had landed on a cave floor and there was water trickling down alongside the wall nearby, but there didn't appear to be any more holes or crevices. Tenniel sat down and waited as Zevran was slowly lowered through the hole a few feet away from her. The witch-light was strapped to his helmet, and he had skillfully knotted the ropes to form a harness.

"Look at you, coming to my rescue like some brave knight."

"Nonsense, my dear Warden. I just happen to be skilled at delving into dark holes."

She laughed at his clever retort, and as his feet finally touched the ground, she was already standing, wincing painfully as she moved towards him. "Well, that certainly looks better than the way I came down here…"

Zevran enveloped her in a tight hug and they just held each other for several long moments. Despite her best efforts, a few tears escaped, and Tenniel clung to her assassin even tighter.

_I am such an idiot. Maker, I think I love this man._

* * *

><p>He had checked all the dark corners of the sunken cave first, confirming that there were no more dragons of any size that were still alive. The Antivan then looked over her, adjusting her armor and examining the tender places she pointed out to him, silently reassuring himself that she was still alive and his to care for.<p>

"We'll have to set this ankle soon. It looks like it's already healing, but the wrong way." Zevran finally spoke, his composed words and behavior belying the agitation he still felt.

Tenniel nodded her head and winced as he helped her to her feet. "Yeah, it definitely feels wrong. But there's an injury kit and a few potions in my pack. That should help."

He was silent for a few minutes, untying the 'seat' portion of the rope harness, and then retying it around her, checking and tightening all the knots to make sure they would hold her without any mishap during her ascent to the upper cave.

"You gave me quite a scare, Tenniel. You were out for over twenty minutes," he stated as he wrapped the rope around and between her thighs and midsection. He spoke calmly and soothingly, but his jaw was clenched tightly. He was seething with rage inside.

"I am sorry. If I hadn't been stepping away from you…"

"Do not apologize! Do not. Just… just grant me this one thing. Can you do this?" He asked quietly, holding her close, and perhaps a little more tightly than what was necessary.

"I… yes, Zevran. What do you need?" She whispered, curious to know what was on his mind.

"I want you to promise me that you will not try to walk away from me anymore. No matter what we are talking about, even if it upsets you. You are… you are my… you are _mine_ to protect. Please, promise me this, Tenniel."

The Warden wrapped her arm around his shoulder and nuzzled against him as she settled into the rope he tied back up to the main line. "I promise, Zevran. I will not walk away from you."

"Good. I will hold you to this promise, Warden." He lifted the scarf she had around her face and kissed her gently before signaling Walter and the others to start pulling the rope back up.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but it would have to wait.

* * *

><p><em>This is why I am not supposed to care so much about her, about anyone. I am not supposed to care at all.<em>

Zevran mulled over the events of the day, and though the journey back to the keep took over three hours, it seemed to go by rather quickly. At one point, they were in the valley near the river entrance to the caves and they could see the dragoness circling high above them, her raucous cries seeming to curse them. Walter had insisted that they fire-bomb the entrance to the top and bottom portions of the cave after retreating, ensuring that the dragon would not be able to make a lair there again. The Antivan wondered if the dragon was more upset about the treasure they had plundered from her cave, or the loss of her younglings and mates.

He kept Tenniel within sight the entire time. Wilton had set her ankle back into place after she had drunk a few potions, and it still amazed him at her capacity to heal so quickly. She was no longer even limping. Sure, they were filthy and covered in dried dragon-gore, but as they climbed high enough to see the gates of the keep, he realized he hadn't felt as good physically in a very long time. Perhaps adventuring with a crazy woman wasn't so bad after all.

The former Crow breathed a sigh of relief and tried to calm himself. They were alive and well, and they had plenty of loot. Even the dogs looked happy, and the servant seemed content to drag the cart behind them. So why did he still feel as if the icy hand of fear had a death grip on his heart?

_I am not supposed to care,_ he reminded himself again.

He was not supposed to care. That is why he had no fear when he started out on a mission. Regardless of what happened, he would always do the job with no hesitation. He never had to worry about the well-being of someone else to the point he was unable to think, unable to act. Zevran Arainai was one of the best of the Antivan Crows – and he had never gotten flustered at the thought of someone dying, he had never felt as if the ground had opened up beneath him and dumped him into a hellish void at the mere thought of life without someone. Until now.

He did care. And to make matters worse, now he was _bonded_ with this crazy woman. That was all too apparent when Ser Walter told him to calm down after she fell. He had panicked and was about to jump into the crevice after her when the barbarian had thwacked him across the shoulders with his walking stick and told him to concentrate, to close his eyes and think of her, to _feel_ what she was feeling.

And he had done it, which was even stranger. Strange, but undeniable. He had closed his eyes and felt _something_ of her and knew with a certainty that she was still alive and well. The burly barbarian had simply shrugged and told him to wait until she regained consciousness. And Zevran had remembered his training and sat cross-legged, meditating to keep his mind clear and focused until he finally heard her moving about again.

"How are you feeling, Zevran?" Tenniel interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to the present with a gentle touch to his forearm. She reached for his hand, and their eyes met.

"Fine. Much better, now. Now that I know you are safe and well." He let go of his anger and frustration and simply squeezed the palm of her hand as they waited for Jeanelle to open the gate.

"I… thank you, Zevran. That had to have been difficult, waiting around while I was unconscious. Thank you for staying and making sure I was alright." Tenniel said, softly enough so that only he heard it.

_Seriously? Does she honestly believe I could ever leave her without knowing that she's safe or not? Yes, you have most certainly done it this time, Zevran. You are bonded with a mujera loca. _He felt like he did the first time he dived off of a waterfall into a river as a young adolescent. The exhilaration of landing safely in a refreshing pool of water was only matched by the realization that it would take a lot of work to climb back up the hillside and return to camp.

He had made the plunge, so to speak. Tenniel and he were bonded, and he was a Dragon Hunter, willing and able to fight by her side. He just had to learn to live with that. And he would most certainly have a good talk with her later on.

She smiled at him, a wide, toothy grin that showed off her dimples and was all the more endearing with the setting sun sparkling against her jewel-green eyes and the wisps of hair that had managed to get loose from her helmet. How could she not understand how much she warmed his soul? Zevran felt himself smile in return.

"Ah, my Warden. Did you think that I could do any less?" He finally answered her.

Before she could even think of a reply, he pulled her close and kissed her fiercely.

"I would never leave you behind, _mi amora_. Never."

Later on, they would talk about this feeling he had. How could he make her understand how much she meant to him? He would make her sit and listen, even if he had to tie her down. Later on, after all the goods were put away and they were cleaned up and had all the supplies packed for their journey to Haven – after that, he would have a good talk with her.

Yes, later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks - Part Two**

_**Author's note: **This, like everything else posted since chapter four, is not beta'd yet. Please excuse the mistakes, and PLEASE review! _

* * *

><p>"Jenny, would you be able to contact someone at the Spoiled Princess before nightfall?" The Warden took off her pack and set it in the three-wheeled cart after bending down to scratch Terri behind the ears.<p>

The demure elf stepped down from the wall where she had released the gate lever and bent down to retrieve her gnarled oak staff. It was leaning against a sun-bleached post set with a few sturdy iron rings for tying horses. She looked up to the sky and shook her head. "No, I will not be able to fly there and make it back to roost before nightfall."

"Never mind then. It's dangerous for you to fly at night. It can wait until the morning, anyway. We'll just have to hope that Wynne is up for a bit of travel and able to borrow one of the horses. I'm sure Bodhan won't mind, especially with all the coin he's been amassing from our forays across the blighted lands. What do you think, Zevran?"

The wind kicked up a little, blowing the Warden's hair across her face. Dark, low-hanging clouds, thick with the promise of rain hurried across the peak above. Someone had already turned the gas lamps as well as the weather-proof witch-lights on to combat the gloom that would soon fill the yard in the mountain's shadow.

Zevran stepped out of the way to let the cart pass while Walter and Winton walked towards the stables, the mabari and three sheepdogs close on their heels. "That should not be a problem. However, our dear mage is no spring chicken, no matter how much her bosom bounces around like one. She is having more and more trouble waking up in the mornings, did you not notice?"

"Hmmm. Yeah, I did notice, and I think there's a very long story behind that. Something about Wynne troubles me. But until she's ready to spill the beans, I'm not going to press her about it." Tenniel turned around and looked across the yard to where Regina and the twins were waiting near the kitchen entrance. She smiled at her former lady-in-waiting's fierce-looking armor and waved to her and the children.

"Spill the beans?" Zevran raised one eyebrow and stared at her, waiting for her to answer his question.

"Yes, spill the beans. It means fess up, you know… confess to us the real story and talk about what's truly going on with her."

"You Fereldans and your strange euphemisms. Why would she confess to us about her guilt, and what good would it do? We are certainly not priestesses."

An image of Zevran wearing a chantry robe caused her to chuckle a bit. She stopped abruptly, mollified as Jeanelle and Zevran looked to each other and crossed their arms, smirking at her. Tenniel raised her hands in a gesture of defeat and shook her head before continuing. "It's just an expression, Zevran. Although I can't blame her if she doesn't want to tell us her secrets. Maker only knows I've got enough of my own to worry about. As long as whatever she's hiding doesn't affect our mission, I'm not going to pry."

"Jeanelle, if you could venture across the lake at first light and go to the inn to fetch our Circle mage, I would appreciate it greatly. She's staying up on the second floor – the name's Wynne. Everyone knows she's travelling with us. We need her to leave Alistair to recuperate on his own at the Tower with the Templars, so please tell her to meet us at the shore for the trek up to Haven tomorrow. I'll write a short note for you to carry to her."

"Of course. I would be glad to help any way I can, Tenniel."

Zevran nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, we will most certainly need a healer, Warden. No telling what sort of resistance we might run into with an over-eager dragon cult. And no telling what sort of holes that cave network might have. We would not want to have to rescue you from another crevice, now would we?"

"She fell into a crevice? Tenniel! You should let me take a look at you to make sure you have no fractures. Remember when you hit your head on the rocks last year before the landsmeet? You lost consciousness on your horse and if Terri had not been there to alert the rest of us…"

"I'm _fine_, Jeanelle. Andraste's smallclothes! Thank you very much, but I don't need you coddling me like I'm one of the pups."

"It would not hurt for her to make sure, Tenniel," Zevran interjected.

_Why does he always have to be right? _She looked at her assassin for a moment and then shrugged. "Fine, if you insist. We have a lot to do tonight, though. And another long day ahead of us. If Jeanelle is able to contact Wynne tomorrow morning, when do you think we need to head down the mountain?

"That ferryman, Kester; he should be able to bring Wynne to this side of the lake no later than midday, yes?" He reached out towards her, putting his arm around her waist, and she let him.

"Mmhmm, that should be doable."

"Then we will travel down with your horses after a late breakfast. That should leave plenty of time for us to meet our elderly mage."

Tenniel sighed, and smiled at their closeness, glad to be near him again. "She may be old, but she's a damned good healer, and you're right. That _is_ what we need, most of all. Still, I wish she was a better fighter, too. Damn it! I shouldn't have sent Morrigan off to Orzamar."

The assassin pressed closer to her hip, a subtle but erotic movement that caused her to lean against the gatepost as he gave her a wry grin. "Surely you are joking, right? You would have Morrigan looking after Alistair while Wynne travels with our bard and the Sten, hmmm?"

"Uh, good point, there. I knew there was a reason why I… shit!" She extricated herself from Zevran's embrace, then raised her voice and directed her words towards the kitchen and dining hall. "Reggie! Don't allow the children to play in the yard by themselves."

"Stop worrying! I'm watching them. And you're right there, too!" She said something else, but a gust of wind scattered her words across the yard, and made them unintelligible.

* * *

><p>Moments later, Tenniel finally allowed the healer to check over her with mage-sight.<p>

"You have been banged up, but I do not see any major damage. And your ankle bone is already completely healed. You are fit for the journey ahead, _falon_."

"Thanks, Jenny. Maybe Zevran will get off my back about it now, hmmm?" She looked at him expectantly, but he refused to take the bait and simply shrugged, ignoring her comment.

"We will talk later, Warden."

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "Oh, we will? Are you going to lecture and scold me as if I'm a wayward squire?"

"Hahaha, perhaps I will. And a spanking or two is in order, to be sure." The Antivan was rewarded with another wide grin for his teasing remark and he smiled back at her before taking a more serious tone. "You _do_ need to take more care of yourself, Tenniel."

"I know. You're right. As always. What would I do without you?" She sighed, then stretched her arm out, gesturing for him to help her up from the cot.

_No, amada mia. The correct question is, what would __**I**__ do without __**you**__?_ Tiny drops of rain were starting to fall from the low-lying clouds. He watched as she put her boots and armor back on, and then walked out of the cottage after her. Jeanelle was already across the yard, venturing towards the dining hall to join Regina.

Zevran started feeling that strange prickly sensation between his shoulders again, similar to what he had felt while they were in the upper levels of the cave. He looked up along with Tenniel, just in time to see the dragoness descend from the clouds.

His vision narrowed down to an area a few hundred feet away, in the middle of the yard. The Warden and everyone around her seemed to be moving in slow motion, but she was already giving chase – one step ahead of him. They ran towards the twins who were laughing and playing with one of the baby goats in the gentle rain, oblivious to the danger above.

A dragon's leathery wings beat once, twice.

* * *

><p>Tenniel yelled out one word: "Zevran!"<p>

He had seen it, too, and she knew he would not fail her. She moved to give chase, one leg already outstretched as if her body or some other part of her _knew_ what to do and had somehow precipitated her mind's thoughts. Both rogues immediately started running towards her children, long, even strides that belied the frantic horror she felt inside her chest as her heart sped up to match her growing panic.

_Breathe in, breathe out. _

Regina saw it, too, but the tall, red-headed warrior would be too late, her broadsword would be useless. The Warden knew this with a glance, and kept running, commanding her legs to be faster. She could not fail; no, she _would not fail_.

The dragoness was as silent as death, wings outstretched over a gleaming bronze and hyacinth-hued back. Talons splayed out, eager to grab her easy prey. She seemed to be descending slowly, but Tenniel thought it was probably just some strange tricks her eyesight was playing on her.

The Warden's side cramped, probably protesting against the absurd demands she was placing on her body, but she no longer cared. She was starting to feel the familiar tang of icy range building up, and it gave her added strength.

Instinct caused the little brown-furred kid to freeze, and it bleated in terror, a pathetic, mewling sound that finally signaled the children to the danger above. Kayla and Darren looked up, eyes wide with fear.

"No!" Walter bellowed from the stables.

Tenniel could see Jeanelle starting to chant up ahead just as she saw Terri running forward from the stables, and she knew with a certainty what she would have to do. Any pain would be well worth the chance to keep her pups safe. Muscles straining, she reached for her swords and tossed them ahead of her, targeting the dragon just before it scooped up the ill-fated goat.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

The dragon's wings moved up and down again, and it roared angrily, hurtling the small animal aside and to the ground before rearing up into the air a few feet. It swooped down again, but this time, Tenniel was ready.

* * *

><p>It was Zevran's turn to gasp as he realized what she was about to do. He had seen her move faster than humanly possible, then throw her swords up and into the dragon's underbelly. One had grazed its side, and the tip of the other sword had sunk in before the dragon twisted, forcing it out before it dropped the baby goat mere inches from the cowering, frightened children.<p>

Interrupted from its true goal, the dragon's talons had gored through the kid, and Zevran noted with detachment how its innards steamed as the cold raindrops pattered against the corpse. The animal's eyes were glassy and lifeless, but its heart was still beating, blood pumping out and seeping into the grass. He saw the Warden run a few more steps, then raise her arms as she slid under the dragon, scooping up her children and tucking them under her body.

He didn't even realize he had screamed. The Antivan gripped his saw sword firmly in his right hand and was already reaching for _The Edge_. He knew it was sharp and coated with poison, and he threw the dagger, thankful that he had not gotten out of the habit of always preparing his blades for the next fight. _Too little, too late. No!_

Zevran's aim was true, but it did little to deter the dragon from its goal. It reared up again, this time roaring out a plume of fire that caused him to falter. He raised his free arm up and turned away, shielding his face from the blast of heat and steam. _No! I must get to her, she's still under it!_

His heart skipped a beat and he watched, helpless, as a fresh gust of wind cleared the steam and displayed the dragon digging its huge claws into Tenniel's unprotected back. He knew with a certainty that her armor would do little to protect her from the beast's onslaught.

He lost all reason, and screamed in a fit of rage, his vision turning red as he ran towards the dragon, sword outstretched and aching for its blood. _This thing is going to die today, one way or another._

Crossbow bolts zinged overhead from the direction of the stables. He ducked, then rolled sideways before springing back onto his feet. He struck at the dragon, swiping angrily at its belly, trying to stab it in a spot that would do the most damage as it was preoccupied with trying to fly back up to escape the shower of arrows. He knew he was getting too close, but he would do anything, anything at all to get it away from Tenniel and the children.

His sword finally stuck in between two tough plate-like sections covering its underbelly and sunk in a bit. Zevran yanked the sword back out, satisfied with the gush of bloodspray that followed. But the fight was far from over. Just as he tried to stab it again, the dragon twisted around and its tail struck out at his sword arm, knocking him a few feet backwards as the blade fell, useless. He tucked his body in and rolled away to try and dodge its next attack, but he was now defenseless.

The dragon roared again as it dodged a ballista missile, an excruciatingly loud bellow that made the elf's ears and head hurt and his vision go bleary for a moment. He got back on his knees and dared to glance towards Tenniel again. Hope filled him with renewed energy as he saw his Warden turn her head, the twins cradled safely in her arms beneath her chest.

Zevran suddenly felt a low vibration from the ground and his ears popped. But this time, luck was on their side. The mage had cast a shield over his Warden that would help protect her from the dragon, and he could see the pommel of one of her swords was within reach. He almost smiled when he saw the beast raise its wings again and look towards him. Its jaws snapped open, and he did a quick somersault, grabbed Tenniel's sword and jumped up to meet the dragon head on.

* * *

><p><em>Breathe in, breathe out.<em>

She could smell the sweet scent of their lavender and mint-scented hair soap as she tucked in her chin atop their heads, curling her body around the twins as she brought them close together beneath her chest. Kayla whimpered under her left arm, but Tenniel knew they would be alright, as long as the dragon didn't try to lift her up into the air

The Warden heard Zevran's scream of rage, then felt a hot blast of air and squeezed her children closer together, hoping that her body and armor would protect them from the dragon's flames. _Maker, please let this be enough. _Something heavy and sharp hit her, then pulled at her back, tearing into her sword holster and armor. She felt a brief but searing pain as something sharp struck her and scratched down from her shoulder blades to the belt of her breaches.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

But it did not happen again. She moved her head up a little, craning her neck to try and discern what was going on above and around her just in time to see Zevran fall, sliding across the slick grass a few feet from her.

_**Schwoong**_

The sound of a shield being put in place above her was a welcome relief. She sat up slowly, knowing that Jeanelle would have erected a passive one that would allow her to move about while allowing nothing inside. The Dalish elf's protective magics were keyed to the amulets that each of the children wore, boosting her normal range and giving them a shield that would extend a few feet out from wherever they happened to be if they ran into danger and became frightened. Normally, it would have already triggered. But they hadn't noticed the danger until it was too late.

Tenniel heard the dragon's roar, but it was muted behind the defensive barrier. The children started, hugging closer to her when a concussive force struck the ground closer to the cabin. She looked around, just in time to see Zevran run back towards the dragon's maw. _Now! _She saw her chance and took it, hoping that he would be able to hold his own in time for her to get the children to safety.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

"Kayla. Darren. Mummy's going to pick you up, and we're going to go back to Jenny now, alright? When I put you back down, I want you to run as fast as you can. Run to the kitchen and don't look back. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Darren answered quietly.

Kayla took a deep breath and looked up at her. "Yes, Mummy. I'm scared."

"I know, honey. But everything will be alright. I promise. Mummy fights monsters all the time, right? Here we go… one, two three!"

She jumped up, still gripping them tightly, and ran as fast as she could, away from Zevran and the dragon. The Warden passed her mabari, Terri, hurtling forward to join the fight. But she didn't risk looking back to see what was going on. Once she got twenty feet away from the building, she finally set the children down.

"Run!"

They were obedient as they ran to where Jeanelle awaited, and did not look back. Tenniel was winded, but she quickly recovered, taking Regina's sword as soon as it was offered to her. The red-haired Avvarian was busy reloading the ballista and didn't say a word to her, so the Warden didn't catch her horrified stare.

The rain was falling faster now. She headed back into the foray just in time to see the dragon crash down to the ground on top of Zevran, Terri's jaws embedded in its right wing.

* * *

><p><em>This is not good. Not good at all. <em>Zevran had ducked under the huge beast right before it opened its mouth. He immediately turned and stabbed upward, piercing it through the underside of its throat and up through its snout. The problem was, it was clever.

The dragon had started flying up, and it was twisting its neck to and fro, trying to dislodge him. The Antivan knew with a certainty that if the dragon was able to get very high into the air, he would be a goner. Its talons scraped his leg, and then it groped blindly for his waist. He kicked, trying to elude its grasp while at the same time maintaining his hold on the rain-slicked weapon hilt. Zevran saw Tenniel running across the yard and kicked out with renewed vigor.

Walter was still shooting his crossbow, but this time, his ammunition did much more damage. Zevran grunted against the impact as an explosive bolt rocked against the dragon's underbelly. The beast was temporarily dazed and started to plummet back down to the ground again. And now he was faced with an even bigger problem.

They were falling fast, too fast for him to turn or jump out of the way. Something else slammed against the dragon's side and it rolled, saving him from getting crushed at the last second. The shock of hitting the ground made his ears ring.

He was effectively trapped. The dragon's neck was lying atop his arm and part of his shoulder, and even though he could see the mabari had one of the dragon's wings in its mouth, he knew it would recover soon and shred them both to bits if he was still stuck there.

_Too late. _The dragon was already trying to right itself, shaking loose as it pushed up with its front legs. Zevran immediately moved away, crawling out from beneath it against the cold, wet grass. The dog jumped onto its back, and the dragon responded by rearing up, trying to snap its jaws and looking almost comical with the sword stuck upside down through its snout as Terri clawed its hide. Zevran backed away slowly, glad that the beast was temporarily distracted.

_Perhaps this is not a total loss after all. _The beast suddenly looked down and gazed directly at him, its glowing purple orbs seeming to pierce into his soul. It reached up with its front claw and yanked out the sword from its snout, bellowing with rage. He rolled back around just in time to feel a wave of heat against his back, and then his ears were assaulted with the sound of a huge explosion.

_This is not good at all._

* * *

><p>The dragon had righted itself, but she could see that Zevran was still moving. She ran in a wide curve towards the battle, careful to stay out of the way of the ballista.<p>

Tenniel saw the dragon twist around again, knocking Terri off its back before it spewed flames towards Zevran. She screamed, but the sound of it was drowned out by the impact of the missile tearing into its hide. The Warden faltered for a moment as the ground shook, then kept running, knowing with a certainty that missiles and bombs would only stun it. There was only one way to ensure that permanent damage was done to its magical hide.

_Kill, don't think._ The ground was steaming, the fog momentarily obscuring her vision, but she knew she could not hesitate. Another strong gust of wind blew across the yard and she was suddenly already there, broadsword in her right arm as she jumped.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

Rainwater got into her eyes and she almost couldn't see, but she made the jump, reaching with her left arm to grip the sword and bring it down with more force against the dragon's unprotected neck. She grunted, the strain of plunging the huge sword through the beast's neck plates almost too much. Almost, but not quite.

_Kill, don't think. _A fountain of bloodspray poured out from the dragon as it froze, in shock from the gaping wound that had appeared in its neck. Tenniel wasted no time as it stumbled, its legs giving way. She screamed, pulled the sword out and shoved it down again, this time pushing at an angle to the right and towards the ground, snapping through bones and tendon. The Warden chopped through the thick muscle and hide of its neck and slashed the sword up and down one last time, effectively severing its head off.

The glow in its purple eyes started to fade, and its legs finally stopped twitching.

She stepped over the carcass, her boots splashing in the rapidly growing pool of blood. Everything seemed eerily quiet. Her ears were ringing, and she couldn't hear a word Zevran was saying to her as she fell down to her knees right next to him, finally spent. He reached for her, and she tilted her face up to the sky, letting the rain wash away the blood that was surely there.

_Will he understand? Or will he run away?_ She looked down towards him and could feel her body growing numb. _Is it starting, already?_ Tenniel laughed. The dragon was dead, but for her, the battle had just begun.

* * *

><p>"Tenniel, are you hurt? How is your back?" he yelled, but she didn't seem to understand or acknowledge his questions. She was covered in blood and he was sore and very tired, but at least they were all still alive. Zevran reached for her face, not caring that it was blood-soaked, but she closed her eyes and looked up to the sky, letting the storm wash away the gore.<p>

When she chuckled, he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking everything was fine. Then, she looked back at him, and her eyes were the most intense color he had ever seen. No, they were glowing, a bright, eerie emerald color that was almost mesmerizing._ Surely, this cannot be normal?_

The Avvarian's deep voice seemed to confirm his growing worry. "Come on, let's get her inside. We've got to keep her warm."

"What is happening? Why are her eyes glowing?"

"No time to explain. Get her inside and out of that wet armor. She'll come through the transfer just fine, don't you worry, lad. Just keep her warm."

_Transfer? _Zevran squatted down and gathered Tenniel in his arms, right before she slumped over. He noted how easy it was to lift her. He had definitely gotten stronger.

Regina ran towards him as he was walking towards the cottage, but she didn't have any answers for him either. "The memories will pass quickly. Just keep her warm. We'll tend to her after we process the hide and see to the livestock and supplies. Jeanelle will bring the children over with supper soon."

_Memories? Just what are these Fereldans talking about now?_ Zevran entered the cottage, his head still buzzing from the shock of the recent battle. These people were simply astounding, acting as if this was a common occurrence. _Perhaps it is a common occurrence, for them. Did she really just kill a high dragon?_

Zevran laid her on the cot in front of the fireplace and removed both of their armor, stripping down to a tunic and smallclothes. She was tossing and turning, acting as if she was feverish, but her skin was cold and clammy to the touch. The former Crow laid beside her on the cot and covered them up with a blanket after kissing her forehead, then wrapped his arms and legs around the Warden, sharing his body heat.

He had almost lost her again. Twice in one day, and he knew with a certainty that this was far from the most dangerous thing they would have to face together. _Together. Ah, mi corazón, what have you done to yourself into this time?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks**

_**Author's note: **Thanks for continuing to read, and thanks for the review! Don't worry, I promise to get back to the yummy bits soon. Just needed to clear some things up about the dragon-hunter backstory and such. Please review or send me a PM. Mahalo!_

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><p>"<em>Brasca<em>! Why won't you stay _still_, woman?" Zevran huffed, then tucked the large linen sheet around his companion in an attempt to stop her from flailing around. She had already smacked him in the eye and would have probably bruised his ribs or other tender parts if his reflexes weren't so quick. He had to pin her arms behind her back and put most of his weight on top of her legs before she had finally calmed down.

Despite the roaring fire nearby, her skin was still unnaturally cool to the touch. And even though it wasn't bleeding, he was still worried about the long claw wounds on her back. Sure, it had been easy enough to cut through her now ruined drakeskin, but Tenniel had started whimpering and fidgeting as soon as he tried to take off her sleeveless shift. He winced in sympathy. It was going to be a pain to get that separated from her skin, now that the wound was already healing. But he would have to wait for the healer and the others to return.

The Antivan sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair in a rare gesture of frustration. He was standing above her and the cot, and they were both clad in their undergarments, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her when she finally woke up.

"What is _wrong_ with you crazy Fereldans?" He sat down on the cot next to her and scooted closer to her, offering his body heat as he leaned against the pillows. "You run headlong into danger, killing dragons and then having to deal with even bigger dragons after you rile them up. And you never even tell me what is going on. Maker help me, how am I supposed to take care of you if you keep doing things like _this_?"

She made another small noise and tucked her head into his chest, as if she was seeking his comfort. Zevran sighed again and shook his head before kissing the top of her head and smoothing down her hair. He toyed idly with her braid and then wrapped his arm around her, hugging her close for several minutes while being careful not to touch the wound on her back.

"What am I doing here? A Crow… playing nursemaid to a Warden with a death wish, and having to deal with her secretive, deranged barbarian family. How can you people _live_ like this?"He glanced down at her again, glad to see the color had returned to her skin. Tenniel's body temperature was starting to feel almost normal as he caressed the back of her neck.

"See? The craziness must be contagious. Here I am with a beautiful woman in bed and all I can do is talk to myself." He laughed at the absurdity of his situation, a deep, throaty chuckle that elicited another response from his Warden.

She smiled, lifted her head up and started murmuring in a strange, lilting language. "_Eskal elān in'aoki. Ti ra'shaksi, elān ka a duren in'aoki_."

Zevran tensed, ready to move away at a moment's notice if she regained consciousness and needed more space to move around. "Come again, Warden?"

"_Elān, elān, _Zevran!" She finally opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Ah, at least your eyes are no longer glowing."

"Such insolence! You deny me? Ah, _norvin aoki minkroth_!"

"Tch, tch, Tenniel. You are not making any sense at all. Speak common, please."

"Close. Hold me." She wiggled closer to him and buried her head in his chest again, as if that explained everything.

"_Sí, mi amora_. Your wish is my command." Zevran got underneath the quilt with her and gently moved her so she was between his legs and on top of his chest. He sighed again and closed his eyes as he rested his chin atop her head. All he could do was wait.

* * *

><p>Tenniel was assaulted by the alien memories, a familiar yet uncommonly dreadful feeling that caused her to question exactly who had won the battle. Had she slain the beast who dared to attack her mate and her children? Or was she a deadly monster, remembering events from within a stolen skin? Victory would not come easy, it seemed.<p>

_Years flew past, slipping by with almost as much ease as the great shadow that graced the peaks and valleys of her territory as she floated over them. Rivers changed course and cities were constructed, laid to waste and forgotten in ruin. Battles were fought with her sister-kin, as food became scarce and angry, two-legged ones dared to hunt them. More battles won meant more memories were added to her own, making her stronger with each victory. New cities were built and new beasts congregated on the fields below the crags as she watched and slept, watched and slept._

_She awakened and set out of her lair, spreading her wings leisurely as she soared on air currents high above the winding waters. The silver ribbons of life always led to where the two-legged ones tended to their prey. Foolish, two-legged creatures. There were so many more of them now. Much more than the last time she had awakened. _

_Gone were the simple shelters made of sticks and hides. Now, their dwellings were almost as hard as caves. No wonder her sister-kin were so scarce now. And the vile creatures fought back with stolen claws, stolen fire, and shiny jewels that bit into her skin if she ventured too close. Bright, shiny things should be adorning her treasure-pile, not hurting her. _

_Her belly was still full from the weak, tiny, white-furred prey her drakes had brought to her that morning, but she knew it would not last long. There were so many more younglings to birth before she would be free to rest again. She looked down and spotted a wide clearing. The two-legged ones had a large herd of fat cattle, just begging to be hunted. _

_The high dragon banked and descended towards the field, intent on scooping up a large cow. Almost as soon as she tasted the beast's hot blood, she felt the call. Frantic, insistent, it came from her favored drake, the one who attended to her needs while she slept. Her mate's pain filled her head with rage, and she roared, burning grass, cattle and trees as she made her way back towards the mountains._

_She was too late. The two-legged ones had silenced her favored drake forever. Now she would have to do battle again, and claim another lair. But not before the two-legged ones paid for their audacity. _

_She gasped as she saw her death reflected in her own eyes._ No, not her death. She had killed the dragon. She was not an ancient beast who had seen the rise and fall of two civilizations. No, she was a two-legged one. And right now, her back was hurting terribly. Where was her favored drake?

Tenniel moaned and tried to open her eyes. She could smell his sent, a deep, musky smell of grass and hot desert earth mixed with the remnants of some soap. Her favored drake made a deep, rumbling noise and she fidgeted, trying to get closer to him. He was so precious, and hard, and soft and warm and… how could she not want to be closer?

All she wanted to do was feel his heat pressed closer to her body. The Warden tried to tell him so, but her words came out all jumbled. He made some flippant, foolish reply. What was his name? Where was she? How dare this one not do what she wanted him too! Who…..? Oh, yes, Zevran. That was his name. She tried to scold him, but this time, when she moved she felt a terrible throbbing in her back.

She was so tired. And her back hurt so much. She tried to talk again, and it must have worked, because he finally lifted her up and put her on top of his boy, holding her closer to his chest with both arms wrapped around her waist. She sighed and smiled, content to be surrounded by his warmth.

* * *

><p>"She needs a healer." Zevran didn't even bother opening his eyes yet. He heard the clan leader's uneven gait and smelled the dog as soon as they entered the cottage.<p>

"Jeanelle will return shortly," Walter replied.

"That was quite a close call."

"Ach, sure looked like that from where I stood. Although I've seen worse fights, from a closer vantage point."

"Why did you not tell me about this? She is… something is going on inside her head. She was speaking a strange language, too."

"Did you understand it?"

The assassin opened his eyes and stared at a spot over Tenniel's head. He clenched his jaw and tried not to lose his temper. But he was getting tired of the evasive remarks. Hints and subterfuge were all well and good until someone lost an eye. Or a leg. "Do Avvarians have some kind of aversion to answering questions directly?"

"I cannot give you the answers you seek. You will have to ask her when she awakens. What she is going through… only women folk can retain the memories from high dragons. And the experience – well, it's different for each person. At least, that's what my Maggie tells me."

"Why do they have to get these memories at all? It seems like a great weakness, to be rendered unconscious at the end of a battle like that. Or a very well-played excuse to catch up on sleep."

"Believe me, lad. If our women couldn't do this, we'd be in for it much worse later on. Every time a high dragon dies, its experiences are transferred to the next closest dragon. And they _learn_, quickly. Just think… if you were sent to hunt an area where there were ten of the beasties, by the time you got to the last one…"

"You would be in for the fight of your life." The Antivan was silent for a few moments. "What does that do to a person's mind, Walter? Having to deal with so many memories all at once… that cannot be good."

Tenniel's mentor did not reply. He simply looked at Zevran and shook his head, his eyes full of sadness.

Zevran watched him add more logs to the fire and shrugged when he gestured to the tattered remnants of the Warden's armor. He knew this wasn't going to be pleasant, but he also knew he couldn't sit around in the dark, fumbling around for answers when he hardly knew what questions to ask. _Always have a good idea of how the cards are stacked before you make your wager. Or at least, hedge your bets, Zevran. _

He took a deep breath before asking the man another question, "Why did Maggie leave you?"

The highlander looked him in the eyes and shook his head very slowly. "Sometimes, it gets to be too much. And she'll… get lost for a while."

"_Lost_?" He failed to keep the incredulity and anger out of his voice.

"She'll lose part of herself, her spark. The part that lets her live with other people and interact with them. She can't even tolerate being around anyone else for the worst of it. It's… difficult to explain. But don't worry. Tenniel won't be like that for very long."

"I very much hope not. Because she's a warden now. We cannot afford to _lose_ her. No one in this country can afford to take her life for granted."

"No, we can't. And this clan certainly doesn't. But it's up to you, now. You can help her. If she's forced to show some real emotion, straight from the heart, she'll recover much more quickly."

"What do you mean?"

"She's killed at least six, no, seven other high dragons that I know of. The last two times, she stayed in my house to recover with Regina and the pups. She was back to normal in just a day or two, instead of a week. I suppose the children made a big difference. Hard to be cold and unfriendly to the little ones." Walter retrieved their armor and tied it into a bundle.

"So, that is what you meant yesterday when you said I had to remind her that she's a person, hmmm?" Zevran rubbed Tenniel's arm and shoulder as she started to move around again.

"Aye. But that's not why _Maggie_ left. No, she left because she's as stubborn as I am, and she knew I couldn't follow her this time. Mark my words, when that woman makes up her mind about something, you'd better not get in her way. But she's got a good heart. And Ten-Ten's just like her. You can't _tell_ her how you feel. You've got to _show_ her."

He slowly sat up as the Avvarian made his way to the door, the bundle tossed over his shoulder.

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

"Looks like you're doing a fine job of that already, lad. Just be glad she's not a mage."

"Humph. Thank the Maker for small favors. And I see you have just so eloquently failed to answer my question yet _again_, highlander."

"Let old men have their secrets, lad." Walter smirked as he left the cottage.

* * *

><p>"And what are you looking at?" Zevran sighed and glowered at the mabari where he lay panting at the foot of their cot.<p>

Terri gave a happy bark, then turned around in a circle as if he was chasing his tail. He barked again and placed his front paws on the edge of the cot, almost causing it to overturn with his weight.

"Stop that! What are you trying to do?"

Tenniel sat up suddenly, extricating herself from the bed sheets with a grimace. "Hey!"

"Why, hello to you, too. Try not to move around too much. I know your back hurts. The healer will be here soon." Zevran was elated to see she was awake and seemed to be none the worse for wear.

She cocked her head to the side and gave him an angry, puzzled look. "I… what?"

The Antivan's eyes went wide as she suddenly crouched into a fighting stance. He sat up on his knees, prepared to jump away if she started flailing about again, but he misjudged her intent. She backed him up against the wall and slammed her fist into the stones next to his head.

His heart racing, he looked into her wild eyes. At first, he saw only coldness. But then, she blinked and looked at him again, as if seeing him for the first time.

Tenniel brought her hand up to his forehead. Slowly, gently, she brushed a stray lock of his hair away from his face with her hand, closing her eyes for a moment. She looked into his eyes again and traced his tattoo with two of her fingers before touching his cheek with her palm.

"I know _you_." She smiled at him, and caressed his neck and ear with her right hand, still pinning him to the wall with her left arm. Her words were slow, almost as if she was in a drunken stupor.

He finally allowed himself to smile back at her, but still refused to say anything, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"Zevran. Zevran Arainai. Words full of laughter, eyes full of sadness. But not so very sad anymore. You tried to kill me, and now you make me want to live. What do I do with you, my favored drake?"Her eyes held so many questions. Questions that he was not sure he could even begin to answer. So he remained silent.

"Why do you… you feel so good to touch?" Although her words were slow, her movements were certainly not uncoordinated. She ran her fingers through his hair and her eyes seemed to be very pleased with his appearance as she caressed the swirling tattoos on his chest.

The blond Antivan was content to let her become reacquainted with his body at her own pace. But then she did something surprising. The Warden sat on her knees and placed both of her hands on either side of his face, bending close and touching her forehead to his before she finally kissed him softly on the lips.

It was a sweet, tender kiss that made him feel wondrous. The intensity of her gaze afterwards made him feel strange, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. _I thought she was the one who needed to be reminded she's a person. Why is she doing this to me?_

He had to say something, anything to help him deal with the multitude of emotions she caused him to feel. "Ah, it is a gift from the gods, my dear. How else am I supposed to woo a deadly sex goddess?"

She raised her left eyebrow, leaned back on her heels and laughed, a free-spirited, joyous sound that caused him to laugh as well. Zevran felt himself reaching for her hips as she drew him close for a hug.

Then, Tenniel touched her nose to his and kissed the tip of his nose, smiling mischievously, like it was her own private joke.

Again, he felt caught off guard. Lust, cruelty, disdain, indifference, hatred, camaraderie; he could deal with that. But tenderness? That was something totally new. Even Rinna had not made him feel like this; like he was something fragile and special. Like he was a gift to be treasured.

It was a new feeling. And what made it even more frightening was the fact that he liked it. He wanted more.

* * *

><p>Jeanelle had interrupted them, smelling of garden herbs and fresh bread and shooing him away from his Warden so she could begin her healing. He donned a pair of loose woolen breeches, sat on the couch across from the cot and watched, prepared to help if called.<p>

Tenniel was biting down on a strip of leather, and tears of pain were falling from her eyes. But she refused to cry out.

"It is almost done. _Suledin, lethallan_." Jeanelle tried to sooth her.

But the Warden would hear none of it. She rolled her eyes, gritted her teeth and snapped at Jeanelle, impatiently slapping her hand against the frame of the cot, eager for the healing to be done. "Just get it over with already!"

The children were totally trusting. Kayla crawled into his lap as if she had known him her whole life, and Darren sat next to him, holding on to his arm as they watched their mother.

"Is our _mamae_ going to be alright, Zev-ron?" Kayla asked, tugging on her braids.

"Yes, little one. I promise, she will be fine."

Darren tapped his arm, clamoring for attention. "We promise to eat our vegetables from now on. We don't want the monsters to get us and hurt nobody."

Zevran smiled at their innocence. It seemed children were the same all over Thedas, no matter if they were raised on the filthy streets of Antiva City's leather district or living in mountainous caves. The Warden's children were sweet and endearing, and he hugged them close, wanting to take away their fears.

"Ah, _da'vhenan_. Do not worry, little ones. It was not your fault." He found himself using an elvish phrase in response to the Dalish healer and the twin's words. Even after so many years, the words came naturally.

Jeanelle looked up from where she had been kneeling to collect bits of soiled cloth, the remains of Tenniel's shift after they had to cut most of it and peel the rest from her wound. "You did not tell me you lived with the people, Zevran. Were you happy amongst your clan?"

"Hardly. I was the _len'alas lath'din_. As soon as I came of age, I returned to Antiva City. At least there, I was judged by my skill. The Crows do not care if your mother was a whore or not, as long as you can do what you are trained to do." He shrugged, attempting to take some of the harshness out of his words.

"I… I am sorry that the memories of your clan are not pleasant."

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her politeness. "No need to apologize. And they were not _all_ unpleasant." The assassin watched as his Warden grabbed the sheet from the cot and wrapped it around herself, tucking it in front of her chest like a makeshift dress.

"What's a whore?" Kayla asked, in all earnestness.

Zevran and Jeanelle both grimaced and looked to each other, surprised by the girl's question. Tenniel, however, was unperturbed. She saved them from having to think up a suitable response by standing and answering her daughter directly.

"A whore is a person who gives other people pleasure for their money. It's a difficult life, and very dangerous. Some do it because that is the only way they can get enough money to eat and survive. Others do it because they want to. Most people look down on them and even hate them for giving away their affections for money. It can be a very sad way to live."

"Oh!" Her daughter nodded, as if she understood completely. "Are you all better now, mummy?"

"Yes! Come here and give me a hug!" She knelt down and spread her arms, and both children ran over to her, eager to be embraced and reassured.

The Antivan looked at them with a smile, then joined in the group hug after the Warden beckoned him to come over. He felt as if his ears were burning when he kissed her. Tenniel and her family were so full of surprises. But he could certainly do worse. _This is not so bad at all, Zevran._

* * *

><p>Dinner had been a veritable feast. Everyone had gathered in the small cottage instead of the great hall, eager to share stories as well as foodstuffs. In contrast to the food he had to deal with while in Denerim and Lothering, he found the fare to be very tasty. Every dish was delicious and full of spice. The wine was a bit dry compared to what he was used to, but even that was pleasant.<p>

Tenniel's entire clan, including the so-called servants, were sharing in the festivities and seemed genuinely happy to break bread with their warden and lady. She acted completely normal and full of life, even if he did catch a few wistful glances when their eyes met.

Still, he was glad when everyone finally started to leave. Regina and Jeanelle each picked up one of the twins, who were already falling asleep after the hearty meal.

"We were very lucky today. Korth has blessed us with a great bounty, and delivered us from the clutches of that foul beast. We can rest easy the entire winter, knowing that there are no dragons around who will rampage the countryside or disturb our hold. And we have you and Tenniel to thank for that. Thank you, Zevran."

"You are very welcome, Regina. You and Jeanelle, have a good night."

"Aye, we will." The mabari followed them out, barking once as if giving Zevran permission to stay and take care of his mistress.

Ser Walter was the last to leave, but before he walked out the door, he turned and looked towards the Warden.

"Tenniel."

"Yes?"

"You're doing much better, now. If I would've known you'd fall for the assassin elf type, I would've hired him myself."

"You bastard! Next thing you know, you'll be telling everyone it was _your_ idea."

The highlander chuckled and tugged on his beard. "So, did you find out anything interesting from the transference?"

"Not really. Well… yes, sort of. She laid and insanely large amount of eggs this time around. She'd never had such a large clutch before. And she would've made the flight to Drake's Fall soon. This one was _very_ old. I'd say eight or nine centuries, at least."

"Not so very old at all, lass. Still, you did good. A clean kill. We'll be able to do a lot with the carcass. And most importantly, you saved the pups. We won't let them venture out like that again."

"I know you won't. Sleep well, Walter. Sleep well."

"Aye, you too. Both of you."

Tenniel leaned against the door after closing it behind the Avvarian. "That was… difficult."

Zevran moved toward her and embraced her. She still smelled wonderful from the quick but thorough bath they had taken together after her healing. "For you, or for me?"

She looked into his eyes, touching his face again. "It is strange. I feel as if I am another person. I remember things, people, events… but I do not feel connected to them. I know this is how I should behave, so I do it. But the only time I feel _real_ is when I'm touching you, or the children."

"So, you have been faking?"

"I… I don't know. I don't feel as restless, or angry or agitated. Not like every other time I've brought down a high dragon. Hahaha, Maggie was right!"

"How so?" He walked behind her out of the living room and started unlacing the back of her gown.

"She said it would be much better when I found a drake to call my own."

"Oh, so now I am one of your drakes?"

"Nope, you're my _favored_ drake. Don't forget it."

"You can be certain of that." He paused, glad to see that he had her undivided attention once more. "I was worried that I would lose you today. You made me so… angry!"

She gave him a puzzled look and kissed his hand. "But that is the way our life is, right? We are killers, warriors. Life comes and goes so very easily. It's fleeting, _gone_, at a moment's notice. And that's why we have to treasure the ones we care about while we can." She said the last sentence very softly, as if she was reminding herself of something important.

"Maker forgive me, but I think I would rather have the opportunity to treasure you just a bit longer. Please, Tenniel. I need you. We _all_ need you. I said I would take care of you. So _let_ me take care of you. Will you stop rushing into danger so much?"

"You will take care of _me_, knowing that I carry around the memories of dead dragons like I'm some sort of twisted abomination? And you will keep your oath, knowing that I will _have_ to court danger to get this country through the Blight and keep it from tearing itself apart with civil war?

"Warden! I gave you my oath, and I will not break it." He guided her towards the bedroom, intent on making her understand. "Listen, Tenniel. All I ask is that you stop taking _unnecessary_ risks. Can you do that much, at least?"

"I make no guarantees, my beautiful assassin." She squeezed his hand before gazing into his eyes again. "These quests I have to fulfill – they will no doubt put us in harm's way time and again. But I will try to play it safe as much as I can. That is all I can do, alright?"

He nodded back to her, then shook his head, unconvinced that she fully understood what he was trying to say.

Tenniel caught his frustrated look and stopped him before he could walk away towards the other side of the bed. "Hey. I was scared, too. When I saw you trapped underneath that dragon… Regina said you fell from a pretty good height. You'd better not take so many risks yourself. What would I do without you?"

He narrowed his eyes and shrugged, attempting to brush her comments off. "Life comes and goes so very easily, hmmm?"

"I mean it, Zevran! I care about you a great deal…" She sat down on the bed and fluffed up one of the pillows, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Perhaps that is true. But do you understand how I feel about you?"

She turned back towards him and spoke very softly again, hesitating - almost as if she was afraid of what his answer would be. "How… how _do_ you feel about me?"

"Let me show you." He pushed her gown off her shoulders, touching her slowly and softly. Her eyes lit up and she parted her lips as his fingers brushed against her neck. Zevran could see that she still wanted him, and there was no faking the heat he felt in her gaze. It was all the invitation he needed to claim her mouth with a kiss.

* * *

><p><em>Eskal elān in'aoki. Ti ra'shaksi, elān ka a duren in'aoki<em> (avvarian)_ - _Hold me close. My beloved, I need to feel you close to me.

_Elān, elān_ (avvarian) - Near or close; as in, 'Closer, closer'

_norvin aoki minkroth_ (avvarian) - my back hurts

_Sí, mi amora_ (antivan) - Yes, my love

_Suledin, lethallan_ (elvish) - Endure, cousin.

_da'vhenan _(elvish) - my heart

_len'alas lath'din_ (elvish) - dirty child no one loves


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks**

_**Author's note:**_ Aloha again! I'll be on travel for a couple weeks, but I promise to start writing again before Thanksgiving. Enjoy another unbeta'd chapter, and as always, reviews are deeply appreaciated!__

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><p>"What the fuck was <em>that<em> all about, Alistair?"

The mangled, bloody remains of six would-be assassins lay strewn about the road and the gully near their current position. Zevran and his Warden had made quick work of them after they had spotted the strangely-dressed men lurking in the shadows.

At first, they were going to approach cautiously, just in case it turned out to be a trap. But Alistair had ruined that plan by riding his horse headlong into the grove. The enemy had scattered and tried to pick them off with bow and arrows, so the mabari and both rogues had been forced to give chase and engage them on foot.

Tenniel Cousland was fuming, and eager to give her fellow warden a good old-fashioned chewing out.

"_Look _at me! _Seriously_! You're not a fucking green recruit. I _know_ you know how to fight properly."

"I was just trying to…" Alistair sputtered, and then closed his mouth, unable to think up a suitable reply.

"Trying to _what_? Kill yourself? You're riding a cart horse, not some chevalier's war steed that's born and bred for battle. You're lucky she didn't buck you. _Don't _break formation again. It's bad enough you insisted on coming when you're not completely healed. Keep acting like this, and I'll take your horse and leave your Maker-damned arse here in the woods."

"Ow! That's harsh…" Alistair sat astride his bay, looking like a picture-perfect knight with his templar armor, new sword, and shield gleaming against the sunlight. But the picture was ruined by his pouting grimace. He wasn't taking the criticism well at all.

"I mean it! _Grow_ the fuck_ up_. You're not playing hero. This shit is serious. I don't want to have to bury you today, got it?" The blonde noblewoman glared at him angrily as she finished cleaning off her sword.

"Yes, Ser!" His eyes were wide, but he appeared to have finally grasped the severity of the situation.

The mage adjusted her robes over the rump of the horse, wincing at their leader's harsh words. She attempted to relieve the tense atmosphere with some sage advice. "Tenniel, he meant well…"

"Wynne, don't even start!" the Warden held up her palm and yelled tersely, effectively silencing Wynne before she could even begin to speak her mind.

She put her swords away, took off one of her gloves and rubbed her temple in exasperation. They were still on the leeward side of the range, so the weather was temperate and no one was wearing a helmet. Truth be told, she hadn't expected to have to fight at all. Tenniel glanced at Zevran, and he gave her a wry smile, understanding written in his gaze. He strode over to stand at her side and pulled off some vines that had gotten entangled in her braid.

Tenniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly before smiling back at the dapper-looking Antivan in his new dragonskin shadow armor. She had bought two sets of enchanted armor from Wade the previous year, intent on having her and her brother stand in as her father's knights at the next year's landsmeet. It would have been a wonderful Feastday gift for Fergus, and the Cousland crest embossed on the back would have been sure to raise some eyebrows amongst the nobles at the next gathering in Denerim.

Plans had changed, however. The armor would be put to much better use now that Zevran was here, fighting by her side. _Damn, but he looks good in black. I'll have to thank Regina for doing such a good job re-sizing it the next time I see her. _

"By the Maker, if I have to break that boy in again…" she mumbled softly, for his ears alone.

"You'll do just fine, _again_," he replied, reassuring her with a hand on her shoulder.

Tenniel remembered the first few weeks she spent travelling with Alistair and Morrigan from Ostagar to Lothering and the surrounding countryside. Despite the fact that he was a year older, her fellow warden proved to be at a distinct disadvantage when it came to battle-ready experience. The constant bickering between him and the witch had become almost unbearable. He had finally started to act like a soldier instead of a mediocre body guard by the time they made it to the Circle Tower, but it appeared that three days of rest had all but negated her rigorous training.

As much as she hated to admit it, they were all better off with her in charge. The Warden stretched her arms out, pulling one elbow above her head, and then the other. "I've never seen anyone dressed like this before…" she nodded towards one of the corpses.

"Neither have I. Very strange symbols on their armor." Zevran pointed to a bronze medallion sewn into one of the dead men's chest plates, which looked like an odd-shaped flower with four, rounded petals. "We should be on our guard, _mí corazón_. Perhaps the highlanders are even more wary of visitors with all the changes going on in the country." His eyes scanned their surroundings, always on alert.

"You're probably right. This is the only road to their town. And Walter _did_ say they were unusually paranoid. Thanks, as always, gorgeous." She gave him a playful pat on the butt before sidestepping away.

"I am yours," he replied, staring at her lasciviously. Three little words was all it took to stoke the heat again, and she licked her lips, remembering the bond they shared.

* * *

><p><em>They had awakened very early that morning and were finally done with the packing and preparations for their trip, having entered the cottage one last time to clean up and rest before taking to the road.<em>

_Golden hazel eyes glinted brightly with the promise of carnal delights as the elven rogue stared appreciatively at her muscular physique. Her firm, plump breasts bounced above finely sculpted abs as she moved across the floor. Several scars ran along her back and a few more crisscrossed over her ribs and hips, but to him, they did nothing to detract from her beauty. They proved that she was dangerous, and just as deadly as he was, to have survived so much._

_She took the hand that was offered, eager and hungry for his touch as she stepped out of the bathing room. Zevran walked her backwards and into the bedroom. She looked into his eyes and met his kiss as he nudged her onto the bed, then reached up, pulling him down on top of her._

"_Mmm… this is… damn it. You always make me want you. I can't say no." She squirmed a little, wanting to see him in the candlelight. She wasn't sure if she'd get the opportunity again for a long time. Tenniel moved her hands down across his back and gripped his buttocks, trying to shift her hips to get closer to him, to satisfy that ache._

_Zevran's face broke into a knowing grin, then he leaned down and trapped her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping. "Then just say yes." He grabbed her around the hips, rolled, and swung the Warden on top._

"_Mmm… yes. Yes!" She smiled and reached down to caress his face. "I love saying yes, to you."_

_Tenniel reached down to touch his manhood where it lay brushing against her. She ran her fingers across the tip, gripped his shaft and licked her lips as he gasped and jerked beneath her._

_Neither one of them said anything intelligible for the next several minutes. She slowly lowered herself onto him, settled with a trembling sigh and stayed like that, unmoving for a while. She knew they didn't have much time, but she wanted to prolong the moment. _

_Zevran reached for her, kissing her passionately as she pressed her breasts to his chest. Then he shifted beneath her with a gentle thrust, moaning softly._

_She braced her hands on his shoulders as they moved together, his hands around her hips. Their lips met again, and the heat that was building between them swirled faster and lower, tightening, gripping as they moved more quickly._

_They grinded together at a feverish pace until she cried out, lost in the pleasure he offered. Zevran gave a long, drawn-out growl from underneath her as he thrust once more. He held her there, feeling her heart beating against his chest as they both collapsed and relaxed against the mattress, finally spent._

"_You are still much too loud, _amada mía_," he teased._

"_I'm too loud? What about you?" She kissed his neck, and he closed his eyes, savoring every second. _

"_Am I not a master of stealth? I think… perhaps, I can probably figure something out…" he laughed, still breathless and wondering how often he would be able to enjoy moments like this with her. How he longed for it to last. How dangerous it was, to want something so badly._

"_I think I can get it down to tent-level volume with some practice," she whispered, kissing his cheek, his ear. He smiled and growled at her, thoroughly enjoying her undivided attention._

"_Practice, hmmm? Like we say in Antiva… 'If at first you don't succeed…' "_

"_Try, try again," she finished._

* * *

><p>Tenniel smiled at Zevran and blew him a kiss. She raised her voice so the rest of the party could hear her. "Zevran, I want you to take point while I have a chat with my brother warden. Let's move out, everybody!"<p>

"On it," he yelled, already walking briskly to where his horse stood waiting. The sturdy-looking chestnut mare was idly nibbling at some grass along the path and she whinnied as he approached, apparently eager for them to be on their way.

The Warden reached down to scratch Terri behind the ears before she put her glove back on. "Go, keep an eye on Wynne for me, boy," she whispered, firmly patting his side as he brushed by. Her mabari gave one sharp bark in reply and trotted off to stand by the mage while Tenniel mounted the large roan.

Once she was seated, she gently kneed Ser Walter Gilmore's workhorse and they all set off, following Zevran's leisurely pace. _Thank the Maker I can count on somebody out here. We can't afford to tire the horses out, but we need to get to that village before nightfall._

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Tenniel." Alistair apologized as soon as she caught up to him.<p>

"Don't apologize, just do what you're supposed to."

"I… are you still mad at me?"

She groaned inwardly, dismayed at how sensitive he seemed at times. "No, I'm not mad at you," she lied.

"Oh. That's good. As much as I hate riding horses, it would suck to be left out here and have to get back to the inn on foot."

"Alistair, are you alright? I mean - _really_. What made you think that was a good idea to go rushing in like that earlier?"

"I… I don't know. I thought that I could take care of it. It's just so… aahhh! I just feel so _useless_ sometimes. And there you are, with Zevran, looking all fierce and… and… and _deadly_ in your expensive leathers, like some sort of high-ranking assassins…"

"High-ranking assassins? Humph. I suppose that's right. Zevran _is_ a master-level Crow, after all," she acknowledged.

"He _is_? Uh, I mean, that's beside the point!"

"What exactly _is_ your point, Alistair? You're the one who insisted on coming. And you agreed to follow my orders. So, have you changed your mind?"

"What? _No!_ No, no no. I _will_ follow your orders, Tenniel. Promise. I've never had a problem with that. You do a _great _job. Much better than I would, that's for sure. It's just… it's just… you're so very _harsh_ sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes. You're not the first person to tell me that," she admitted, eager to hear what he would say next.

"I… I'm _not_? But… so… don't you think… maybe, maybe you could be… just a _little_ nicer?"

"Alistair. I'm _so_ not going to fake being nice to you when I'm royally pissed off." She glared at him, then chuckled at her unintended joke.

Luckily, it seemed to raise Alistair's spirits that she was laughing, even if it was at his expense. He laughed with her for a while. "Royally pissed off at me! That's a good one, Tenniel."

"All jokes aside, I meant what I said."

"Yes, but you… you sound so… so very _cruel_ sometimes! Worse than getting yelled at by the grand cleric, almost. And believe you me, she is _not_ a pleasant person."

"Alistair!"

"I know, I know. _Point_. It's just that… well, you're a woman."

"Yes…?" _Is he really going there?_

"And you're very pretty…"

"Uh huh…" _Keep digging that hole deeper, dumbass._

"But you've got a harsh voice. And well, I mean, Leliana is a pretty girl too. And she sounds so… sweet. You… maybe you could be more like that? Maybe?"

She took a deep breath, released it, and then took another before responding. "_First_ of all, my voice _just isn't_ that high-pitched or soft-sounding. And I _can't believe_ we're actually having this conversation. I mean, would you actually stop and listen to what I was saying all the time if I sounded sweet and nice in the middle of a fight? Would that _really_ have caught your attention?"

"I… um... yes?"

"Let me put it another way, _your highness_." She couldn't stop the sarcasm from leaking into her voice. "Do you think the average, tough-as-nails soldier of the Bannorn would listen to a word Leliana said if she tried to yell at one of them?"

"Er… no… No. Probably not," he admitted.

"And your templar brethren. Would any of _them_ have taken it seriously back at the tower if I had issued commands sounding like some bubbly little schoolgirl?"

"I… um. Ah, never mind."

"You really should think before you open your mouth sometimes, Alistair."

They road along in silence for several moments before he replied. "You're right. Thanks. For not yelling again, I mean. I'm kind of a dumbass sometimes, aren't I?"

"You said it, not me." She waited a few more moments before continuing the conversation, trying to let some of her anger dissipate.

"Was that really what was bothering you? You want me to act _nicer_?" she asked, incredulously.

"Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?" he replied, flippantly.

And with that, she lost her decorum. "_Unfuckingbelievable_!" she swore colorfully, in perfect imitation of her first commander.

"Alistair, _honey_," she continued. "You need to wake the fuck up and get a grip. You're _not_ a dumbass. But the rubbish that comes out of your mouth sometimes… some things are just better left unsaid. And when I yell at you, it's because I care about you enough to want to make you _better_. Do you not understand that?"

"I… yes! Of course! Just like Duncan did…" his voice trailed off as he remembered his former mentor and hero.

Tenniel went on, hoping he wouldn't be distracted by morose thoughts. "Hey. I know you didn't have the benefit of eleven years of training under one of Ferelden's toughest swordmasters like _I_ did. And you never worked with knights, or led a squadron into battle, and you weren't a bounty hunter. I don't expect you to be perfect. But please, _please_ focus on the mission at hand, alright?"

"Alright. I'm… I can do that."

"Thanks. I need your head in the game. I've seen you fight, and you can _kick ass_ with that sword and shield. When the going gets tough, I _know_ I can depend on you."

"Yes. I… you really _do_ remind me of Duncan, just now, you know. He was always telling me to pull my head out of my arse, too. In so many words."

"Really? You never told me that before." She chuckled at his admission. Duncan had had a way with words.

"Yes, well, it's not the most flattering thing, you know." They laughed together for a few moments as the horses trotted along, unending rows of pine on one side and the lake on the other.

"He would always say, 'You've got a good heart, Alistair. But you lack discipline and _focus_.' There's always a _but_…" he sighed and shrugged, and Tenniel smiled at his mimicry of the somber, elder warden who had bravely sacrificed his life for their country at Ostagar.

"Well, he was right. You _do _have a good heart. Skill can always be improved, and discipline and focus come with time and training. But having a good heart… that's something no training can perfect. People _like_ you, Alistair. You're a good guy. They can sense that you are trustworthy and wholesome…"

"Yeah, not like that _Antivan_, right?"

She narrowed her eyes at his remark. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" She glanced up and looked to where Zevran was riding around a curve in the trail a ways ahead.

"I… ah, nothing. Pulling my foot out my mouth, now…" his voice tapered off.

"Zevran has earned our trust. He's earned _my_ trust."

"Well, yes, he's certainly helped us out a few times. And he does his fair share…"

"Yes, and he's here to help me_. _If you don't like him, I can understand that. But he's not going anywhere, got it?"

"Got it. _Totally_… definitely… got it."

"But while we're on the subject… did you see what he did when I asked him to take point?"

"Uh… come again?"

She sighed before explaining it to him. "When I give someone an order, I need - no, _expect_ - them to follow it. No questions, no second-guessing. That seems to be a challenge for you today."

"Oh, yeah, _that_. Yes, he just… did it, didn't he? I can totally understand that. Following orders, I mean. Oh! I guess I have to start acting like a soldier… like a _warden_, right?"

"Mmmhmm. Look, I'm not expecting you to change overnight. I got my ass chewed out plenty of times when I first started patrolling and going out with the guards on missions."

"_You_? That's hard to imagine."

"Yeah, well, everybody's got to start somewhere. And it didn't help that I was a girl. Yes, I know that we Fereldans admire our tradition of women warriors and all. But we're still quite few and far between. It took a lot of hard work to get to where I am now. I _always_ wanted to be a fighter. And no amount of yelling, mean-spiritedness or nay-saying on the part of my commanders or fellow soldiers was going to stop me from doing just that."

"I understand. And I _do_ respect you, Tenniel."

"Then please, just do what I say, alright? Especially in the middle of a battle. And stop thinking you have to run out and protect me…"

"I can't help it!"

"Yes, you _can_. You _will_. I meant it earlier, when I said I didn't want to have to bury you." She paused, reminiscing to herself. Tenniel suddenly shook her head and continued, deciding to share her memories with her teammate.

"About five years ago, I went out patrolling for bandits near the Hafter instead of attending the coming-of-age salon my mother put together for me. A young man in my squadron, he and I were pretty good friends. But he kept getting distracted. Wouldn't listen to our commander's orders consistently…" She sighed and gently nudged her horse around a section of the road that had washed out.

"We had to take cover from an ambush, and he just wasn't paying attention. Kept looking over at me when he was supposed to keep an eye on the enemy… and got an arrow through the throat for his trouble. Bled out right in front of me…"

Alistair frowned and his brow furrowed in sympathy. "Yikes! I... I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Just say you'll do your best, Alistair. More than anything else, that unfortunate turn of events made me realize how important it is to keep an eye on my fellow soldiers. And when I became a commander… let's just say it's a big responsibility, knowing how much other lives can depend on me."

"I'll do my best, Tenniel. Too many good people have died already, I should think."

"And I'll try not to _yell_ at you so often. But when I do, try not to take it so personal, alright?"

"Alright. And I… I know I can follow orders. That's one thing I'm good at. I don't know what came over me back there…"

"You were acting jealous, and thought you had to prove something. But there's no reason for you to be that way. You have nothing to prove."

"No?"

"No. You don't have to do anything to impress me. Just be yourself and keep showing progress. We're here to fight the blight, remember?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Good."

"What do you see in him, Tenniel?" he asked, very quietly.

"Who, Zevran?" She chuckled to herself again. "Ahhh… Zevran. Zevran is… he's unique. Charming, deadly, handsome, skilled with his hands as much as with his words. There's much more to him than meets the eye. I trust him. I care about him, and _he_ takes care of _me_. And that's all I'm going to say about him right now. Because he's not you. And you'll never be like him. But that's alright."

"It… it is?"

"_Yes_, it is. One day, you'll find some beautiful, lovely young lass who will steal your heart, and she'll have eyes only for you. She'll say things like, 'Oh, Alistair, what _big_ muscles you have!' and you'll sweep her off her feet, won't you, hmmm?" She said the last bit in a sultry, self-mocking tone.

Alistair raised one of his eyebrows and looked askance at the Warden. "You know, if you had some horns, purplish skin and a lot less clothing, I would swear you were one of those desire demons. You sound just _like_ one of those… temptresses!"

"Hahahah, you see? And _that's _why I can't say things all sweet and nicely to my troops. Can't have them thinking such naughty thoughts while I'm giving the orders, can I?" With that parting remark, Tenniel urged her horse to a canter and caught up with Wynne.

* * *

><p>"You handled that much better than I expected."<p>

Tenniel watched the mage wince and rub the back of her neck. She was about to give a sharp retort, then thought better of it. "And why wouldn't you expect me to handle it?" she finally replied, attempting to set a neutral tone.

"I… nothing, Warden. It's just. You must admit, you are quite young to the ways of the world…"

"Oh, I _am_? And how did you come to that conclusion?" She rolled her eyes and sighed, somewhat disappointed. But she wasn't about to let the circle mage start patronizing her again.

"Well, you _are_, aren't you?" Wynne snapped back.

"Wynne. I thought you were a scholar. For someone's who's been trapped in a tower for most of her life, you seem very quick to make assumptions about people."

"I… what is _that_ supposed to mean, young lady?"

"It means exactly what I said. You _do_ realize that I've probably seen more of the world than you have, right? Unless that fact escaped you while you were ever so overtly watching my actions over the past few weeks and assessing my character…"

"I… I just thought you needed some advice."

"I understand. But if I want advice, I will _ask_ for it, alright?" Tenniel retorted, squaring her shoulders.

The older woman narrowed her eyes, her mouth twisting down with firm disapproval. "Yes, I have seen you ask for advice. From that wicked assassin. _Hardly_ a role model for a young lady, much less a warden, would you not agree?"

"Let's just agree to disagree on that for now, Wynne. The fact is, I _had_ a mother. She's dead and gone, but even when she was alive, the Teyrna knew better than to try and coddle me or offer any unsolicited advice, however well-meaning. I would _advise_ you to do the same. My patience is rather short, of late. As I'm sure you've noticed."

Wynne nodded once and wisely kept quiet, looking tired and dejected as she loosely held the reins on her horse.

_Oh bother. Do I have to worry about her being pissed off too, now? _The Warden glanced up at the sky before pulling a tattered map out of one of her saddle bags. She checked a few landmarks and realized they were making good time. "You know what, Wynne? I think we could all use a break right about now, don't you agree?"

The mage nodded affirmatively, clearly relieved.

"Hey, Zevran! Let's stop for a bit. Time to feed and water the horses…"

* * *

><p>Warning bells started going off in her head as soon as she started talking to the guard near the town's entrance. The Warden kept her composure, despite the villager's extremely rude remarks. Even if she hadn't received Walter's earlier warning, she would have been able to tell that something was definitely wrong with the place.<p>

As soon as they moved out of earshot, Wynne felt compelled to state the obvious. "I suggest we tread carefully here, warden. Something is amiss."

"Ah, quiet, insular communities. There's always something _nasty_ going on behind closed doors!" Zevran's comments made Tenniel smile, as much for the sexual undertones as for the look of annoyance on the mage's face afterwards.

Wynne harrumphed and smirked at him. "You _always_ think there's something _nasty_ going on behind closed doors…"

"That's because there often _is_. I hope it involves chains… I hope they ask me to join in," he chuckled deviously.

"Hmmm… only if _I_ get to watch!" Tenniel took the opportunity to chime in, grinning from ear to ear.

Zevran raised his right eyebrow at her and chuckled again, "Ah, but of course! I wouldn't want to see you in a jealous rage, my dear."

The mage gave a disgusted snort. It was her turn to roll her eyes.

Tenniel shrugged and winked at her man. "Alright, listen up, Wynne. My father's knight said the people in this town were pretty much insane, for the most part. Not your normal run-of-the mill isolated yokels, but far more dangerous. They're a dragon cult."

"Dragon cult?"

"Shhhh… keep it down. We don't want to alarm them too much yet. My guess is, they had something to do with that dead Redcliffe knight we saw on the side of the road not too far back. And that means if we say anything about the urn, it's bound to start a ruckus. Stay alert."

"Understood."

They had left Alistair in a clearing below with their horses and the mabari, sparing him the pain of having to climb up the slopes to town until they could be sure of their reception. She was beginning to think it hadn't been a good idea to split up the party. As soon as she finished speaking with the child near the docks, she was even more convinced that Haven was on the far negative side of bizarre.

"That… that was just too creepy," Wynne remarked with a grimace. They could still hear the boy's sing-song voice talking about dear bonny Lynne's demise.

"Uh… yeah, you think? Seriously, the kid's carrying around a finger bone and spouting macabre poetry. And where are his parents, and everyone else?"

Zevran shifted his weight from foot to foot, glancing around cautiously. He felt unseen eyes were upon them. "Yes, the hillsman said there should be at least a hundred or so villagers living here. And yet, we see five, maybe six houses…"

The Warden's eyes grew wide with the dawning realization. "The caves… there must be caves nearby. Or something like that. That's got to be where they're all hunkered down. Didn't that boy say something about going up to the mountain?"

"We should check in one of these houses, Tenniel." Zevran was suddenly wary.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. If that guard comes around, we'll just say we thought it was the store or something…" her voice trailed off as they moved across the yard, making footprints in the light dusting of snow.

Wynne crossed her arms as they arrived at the door. "What, are you actually trying to _avoid_ unnecessary bloodshed for once, Tenniel?"

"Watch it, there," Zevran warned the mage.

Tenniel ignored the older woman and mouthed a silent 'thanks' to Zevran as they snuck into the ramshackle abode.

* * *

><p>"Oh, bloody hells! This is<em> fresh!<em>" The Warden swore and spat on the floor in front of a well-worn alter, covered in red gore. Whoever had butchered the last sacrifice had done a hasty job of it. Dark pools of blood were settled into the depressions of the wooden structure and ran over the sides in dark rivulets.

Zevran tread closer, while Wynne stepped away, covering her nose against the terrible odor that was permeating the closed-in space. Tenniel glanced at both of them and pointed to the candles placed in a pattern on top of the altar.

"What do you make of this, Zevran?" She asked. He looked toward her, and she knew from the expression on his face that she would not like the answer.

He sighed. "It looks… somewhat familiar. Yes, I have seen this… the Crows often made sacrifices of blood, and it gave a few of them uncanny abilities."

Tenniel was overjoyed to hear him say 'them' instead of 'us'. Wynne, however, had not picked up on those words.

"So, you admit that you and the Crows were not only murderous villains, but engaged in blood magic as well? This is outrageous!" She sneered, her aspersions against Zevran's character seemingly confirmed.

"_Stop it_, now! _Focus_, Wynne. Zevran is not the enemy here. Whatever he did or didn't do while amongst the Crows, well, that's in the past now. We have bigger problems to contend with at the moment."

"Humph. Agreed. _For now_. This village is not quite what it seems, is it?"

"That's the understatement of the decade," Tenniel mumbled as they headed out the door and back across the yard. "I have a very bad feeling about this. Where did all the people go? We know for a fact that _someone_ just recently killed a very large _something_ on that altar and stoked the fireplace before they left the cabin…"

Again, Zevran felt as if they were being watched. "Indeed. Let's check out this store. Perhaps we will find some answers there, yes?"

Answers were found in the form of another dead knight, and a very agitated shopkeeper, who ended up having to be permanently silenced. The trio looked down at the dead Havenite and kept their weapons at the ready.

Tenniel was the first to break the silence. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes. Unmistakable. He pulled that chord and activated a warning alarm of some sort. There are sure to be more villagers out to greet us, now," Zevran declared.

Tenniel slowly, cautiously opened the door, just as someone tossed an acid bomb at it. She jumped back, shouting a warning to her comrades right before the door exploded inward from its frame. Acrid smoke filled the shop as the chemicals worked against the wood, stinging her eyes and making it difficult to see.

Wynne barricaded herself behind the counter, letting loose a few staff blasts against a warrior who was trying to pin the Warden against the wall. Tenniel quickly finished him off, then gave chase to the other three villagers who were still outside.

She screamed, striking against another warrior who appeared to be berserk. His eyes glazed and he laughed maniacally, seeming to gain strength even after she drew first blood. In fact, the more she cut him, the stronger he fought, until finally, she stabbed him through the heart, kicking his body off of her sword as he slumped to the ground.

_Reavers. One down, two more to go_. The Warden glanced around, frantically. _There! _

She spotted one cultist near a tree across the snow-covered path, and headed towards him as she scanned her surroundings. Then she saw something that made her heart skip a beat.

Zevran had an arrow sticking out of his back. She watched, horrified as he stumbled, then slumped over. The armored warrior he had been fighting with near the barn raised a war axe over the Antivan's head, poised to strike. It glinted against the evening sun, bright and sharp.

A crow cawed in the distance, seeming to mock her as she felt the wind against her face.

"No!" she screamed, and ran towards them in a panic, knowing she would be too late to stop the reaver from chopping her lover's head off. An icy feeling of despair started to grip her chest and she yelled, not caring if she roused the entire village.

If they took him away from her, she knew she would burn every last house; kill every last one of them and wipe the town out of existence. Disapproving elder mages be damned, if they took her heart away, they were going to pay. _Everyone_ would feel her rage.

* * *

><p><em>mí corazón <em>(antivan) - my heart

_amada mía_ (antivan) - my beloved


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks**

_**Author's note:**_ _Thanks again for the continued encouragement! This section borrows from the in-game dialogue a lot, although other details are certainly different. Check my profile for the disclaimer. And don't worry, there's a reason why this story is 'AU'. Please enjoy, and your reviews are much appreciated._

* * *

><p>Her hoarse screams startled the reaver. Momentarily distracted, he didn't notice even Zevran sweeping his leg out from under him until his chin ended up in the dirt. Zevran tumbled and quickly sprang up while the man was still fumbling around for the axe he dropped. The large, lumbering cultist may have been strong, but he was certainly no match for the Antivan's speed and deadly precision.<p>

Zevran stabbed the man in the shoulder and the thigh in rapid succession, and then held his other sword to his neck, apparently intent on restraining him for later questioning.

Tenniel was elated, albeit feeling somewhat foolish for having overreacted. She heard the twang of a longbow being pulled back and instinct took over as she turned and swiped at the air, knocking the arrow harmlessly to the ground. The Warden pivoted on her left foot and ran back towards the archer, who was still cowering behind the tree where she had first spotted him, wide-eyed and amazed at her quick movements.

Adrenaline from the fright she had received a scant few seconds earlier was more than enough to power her strikes. She cleaved his head from his cheap chainmail breastplate with one blow, grunting at the impact and sneering as she dodged the blood flow. It was good to have an outlet for her rage, however unreasonable that anger may have seemed at the time.

She jogged back to where Zevran stood, still restraining the remaining cultist. The impact of the strong feelings that had overcome her had still not dissipated, and she almost felt sick to her stomach. _Maker help me, _this_ is why I should never let myself care._

* * *

><p>"See anything interesting?" Zevran asked, pointing to the arrow stuck in his back.<p>

"Hmm... no… you're lucky. Didn't get past the seam…" she was distracted, amazed at how the dragonskin slowly re-knit itself after she pulled the arrow tip out. The expensive sets of _'Wade's Finest'_ had dragonbone chainmail reinforced within the lining, but if she had known the dragonskin was regenerative, she would've started wearing it a long time ago. Tenniel Cousland hadn't expected that sort of astonishing attention to detail from Wade, but when she told him that she was very hard on armor and wanted something that would last a while, he had definitely delivered. Her promise to bring more dragonskin for him to perfect his craft despite Herren's disapproving frowns had probably helped. The master-crafter was full of interesting tricks for one who seemed to enjoy putting on airs. She shook her head, focusing her mind back on the task at hand.

The Antivan winked at her. "All I felt was a slight thump. Did anyone ever tell you that you had a mean set of lungs on you, Warden?" Zevran asked, waiting patiently while Tenniel finished checking over his armor and sword holsters.

"Not in so many words," she replied, chuckling.

"Consider yourself told. Now… what shall we do with this miserable ruffian we have caught? I don't know about you, but I am not inclined to go easy on the 'stab first, ask questions later' type."

"Yeah, especially when _I'm_ not the one doing the stabbing!" she muttered, then started addressing the reaver. He was on his knees, and his upper arms were tied firmly to his chest with his own belt. "You, there. Why did the shopkeeper, and you and your people start attacking us?"

"Filthy lowlander scum! I won't answer…aaaiieee!" The man let loose a shrill scream as Zevran jabbed the pommel of his dagger into his shoulder wound.

He coughed, recovering quickly. "My brethren sent word that they had taken the scholar's writings and disposed of his meddlesome servant. And _still_ the interlopers come! You will all _perish_, you will pay for your sins. The blood of our savior demands it!"

Tenniel kicked the man with the tip of her boot, making him grunt in pain. "Alright, we'll dispose of the pleasantries, then, if you want to do this the hard way. You will tell me exactly what you inbred, numpty highlanders are doing up here, or I promise this will be a long, painful night. Or… would you rather I start barging into houses and dragging out your kinfolk…"

"Unbelievers! You will _all_ die. Andraste will return to the mountain, in all her glory…"

"Oh bother, I wonder if anyone else here is lucid?" Zevran asked in a disinterested tone, already bored with the cultist's rants.

They both turned towards the hill closer to the town's entrance, where Alistair could be seen atop his horse, the mabari following closely behind him alongside Wynne's draft horse.

"What was all that _noise_ about?" he yelled, then dismounted, limping quickly but sure-footedly to where they stood over the kneeling reaver. "And where's Wynne?"

Tenniel gestured towards the storefront. "Wynne was just fine the last time I saw her. I suspect she's checking out the supplies behind the counter."

"And what are you doing with _him_?"

"Oh, just a friendly bit of questioning, is all," Zevran answered.

"Die, die _die!_ You will _all_ die, in her cleansing fire!" the unnamed cultist continued to ramble on.

Alistair winced. "Uh, that doesn't sound very welcoming… or friendly."

"_Sí_, my young friend. I do not believe we will find out anything useful from this one," Zevran shrugged.

Tenniel nodded her head in agreement. "I think it's time we headed up to the mountain…"

The wounded man started snickering, "Hahahah! _Fools_! No one travels to or from the mountain at night while Andraste's blessed children roam freely. They will _feast_ on you, _tear_ you unbelievers apart. You will feel her holy _vengeanc_e!"

He cackled some more, then abruptly tensed, sniffing the air near Tenniel's legs. "You… woman! Have you been graced with her blessing? How can this be? Ahhh… your scent, your scent!"

Terri growled and snapped his jaws at the injured Havenite, clearly displeased.

"What the fuck is he talking about?" the Warden asked as she sidestepped away from the man's outstretched arm. It was an uncharacteristic move, but here in Haven all bets were off. Better to let him think she was intimidated than risk being grabbed.

"Ahhh, your blood is like the divine one! I will have you, I _must_ have you! Yes, yes, I will be rewarded, and you will lie beneath me as I fill you with my seed…!" He lewdly fondled his crotch before he reached out again, grasping vainly for Tenniel's leg with his injured forearm as his face lit up with rapture.

The man suddenly gurgled and was quickly silenced as Zevran slammed his sword into his collarbone and through his gullet. The assassin's brow was knit with fury and disgust as he cleaned his blade on the dead man's leathers.

An uncomfortable silence followed the thump of the corpse hitting snow-covered dirt. "That… that was… wow. Batshit crazy was right," Tenniel finally stated.

Zevran quickly gained his composure. "Tenniel, do not go so close to these… these _reavers_. This is almost as bad as fighting the charmed templars back in the tower."

"Yeah, well, at least I haven't lost my lunch from the smell. Not yet, at least. That was… disturbing." She gave a loud whistle, and the two horses from Peakhold came galloping up the hill, just as they were trained to.

Alistair looked down at the dead Havenite, scratched his head and looked questioningly towards Tenniel. "Um, what do we do now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. No one here talks much, they just run amok, attacking us on sight. Other than that guard, that is. And that strange boy and the rude woman. All of which are nowhere to be found, now. Ser Walter was right. These people are _crazy_."

"Perhaps they think we're bandits. Maybe they're just trying to protect their town from outsiders… or something. They can't be _that_ bad," he insisted.

"Oh, _really_? What kind of sane farmer leaves their crops to rot after a heavy frost, let alone snow?" she asked, gesturing towards a small garden of unharvested corn and an untended pumpkin patch. "Everyone we've run into so far has looked rather gaunt and worn dirty, threadbare clothes. But there's chickens and plenty of other animals around, sheep have plenty of wool, a nice lake full of clean water and trout … I mean, just _look_ at this place! The buildings haven't been mended in quite some time…"

"Yes, but maybe they're just busy… or something came up," Alistair started.

"That's a pretty flimsy excuse not to store food for the coming winter, or patch up the roof, or put a proper coat on a body. It's quite chilly up here, and I'm sure it only gets worse at night."

"Well, didn't that man say something about Andraste's return?"

Tenniel raised her left eyebrow, disbelief etched on her face. "Brother, I think there's a fine line between zealotry and insanity." She shrugged and put her hands up in a helpless gesture. "But hey, what do I know? I got it. Next time we run into a bunch, _you_ can start questioning them, alright?"

"Ah… if you say so…" he agreed, reluctantly. He frowned at the dirt covering his new boots. It had taken so long to polish his armor, and now it was already dusty.

The Warden looked up to the sky and shook her head, then started chuckling as she saw Zevran's knowing smirk.

Alistair noticed it as well. "Hey, are you smirking? I think that's a smirk…"

* * *

><p>"So, Alistair. Still think these people are normal?"<p>

"You don't need to rub it in…" Alistair looked down at his blood-stained silverite platemail in disgust, then leaned against the side of the hill to catch his breath.

"All right, all right." Tenniel knelt down and cleaned her weapons. Eight more Havenites lay dead around the party.

"What _was_ that? The last fellow, he barely nicked me on the ear and it felt like he had carved it off… like he was pulling energy right out of me. And it took _forever_ to kill him. He just wouldn't go down, even after three mortal wounds!"

"They're reavers. That's what they do. It's some kind of blood magic. Except they're not mages," she replied.

"Well, that could come in handy, I suppose," Alistair muttered. He took off one of his gauntlets and started mussing up his hair with his fingers.

"Not if you have to pay for it with your sanity," Wynne retorted.

"I was just saying it's a useful, deadly skill. Not saying that it's right. I, for one, wouldn't want to dabble in any sort of blood magic. And there's limits to what even a bastard prince can do without public outcry."

Zevran watched his Warden shrug in response to Alistair's musings. The blood that had been coating her dark armor seemed to have disappeared, absorbed into the dragonskin. _Curious. What other secrets does this armor hold? _He placed his boot on top of a boulder and stretched his leg. "Do you hear it? Singing from the chantry. The entire town, from the sounds of it."

Tenniel looked up towards the chantry, thoroughly bewildered. "I _really_ don't want to get into the habit of desecrating places of worship. Are these yokels going to make me confront them in the _chantry_?"

"Sometimes, bloodshed cannot be avoided, Warden," he answered.

"Yes." Wynne nodded, uncharacteristically agreeing with Zevran. She directed healing energy towards Alistair before continuing to share her thoughts. "We have already seen that these villagers cannot be reasoned with. _Reavers_, humph! And remember the blood on that altar… surely, there is some foul magic afoot here. Perhaps they're just masking it behind the façade of the Chantry."

"Maker help us all," Tenniel muttered. "Alright, then. Terri, please stand guard here and alert us if you see anyone come or go. Run down and pull them towards us. You know the drill."

The mabari barked in reply, understanding perfectly.

"Good boy!" she petted the top of his head, whispering promises of meaty bone treats and warm fireplaces. Terri immediately sat on his haunches, his full attention on the door.

"That dog is just too smart for his own good," Zevran stated quietly. The war hound turned towards him with one ear cocked, then barked and resumed checking the entrance.

Zevran chuckled, thoroughly amused. "Well, what will the rest of us do, now that this chantry is being guarded so superbly?"

"Looks like we're going to have to stay here in this town for the night, whether we want to or not. No telling what that reaver back there meant about 'Andraste's children'… best not to rush into any _unnecessary_ danger, right?"

"As you wish," Zevran replied, with a knowing grin. Wynne and Alistair seemed relieved at the suggestion.

"Alright, troops. Let's secure the village!" she ordered.

A shadow moved over the party when they were halfway down the hill, and all four looked up with alarm.

"Was that a dragon?" Alistair asked, skeptical.

"No mistaking it. That's definitely a high dragon," the Warden remarked, watching as it flew above until the mountainside obscured it from view.

Zevran immediately stepped towards Tenniel, intent on dissuading her if she indicated she was eager to rush headlong into danger. Instead, she surprised him by closing her eyes and leaning into his touch when he reached for her. He hugged her and tenderly kissed the side of her neck. She closed her eyes and kissed him back as Wynne looked on with a shocked expression on her face.

The Antivan narrowed his eyes at the mage afterwards. It seemed Wynne was more upset by he and Tenniel's open display of affection than she was by seeing a dragon flying nearby. But then again, she had lived in the Circle Tower, and it was clear they had kept a few caged dragonlings. He remembered fighting side by side with his Warden against them, struggling and wondering why the beasts seemed unaffected by the demonic infiltration. _Ah, Zevran, a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing._

"But it doesn't look like we'll have to deal with that problem today," Tenniel stated. She held on to Zevran's hand, still refusing to look at him.

Her fellow warden sputtered and almost reached for his sword. "_Deal_ with it? Wait… are you saying…?"

"What, Alistair? I hope you're not saying we can't kill a dragon. The Nevarran dragon hunters did a pretty good job at keeping their numbers down for the past few hundred years. If they could do all that, surely a couple of wardens can get rid of _one_ measly dragon, right?"

"Well, maybe… yes… but… but…"

"C'mon, it'll be good practice for when we have to fight the archdemon," she teased.

He paled, and she finally decided to stop baiting him. "But _not_ today. Don't worry, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now let's get to work."

Zevran suddenly laughed, more at himself than anything else. Here they were, stuck in a rural village on a cold mountainside, surrounded by crazed killers. The presence of a dragon only added insult to injury. He shook his head and smiled, resigned to the distressingly uncomfortable life he led now that he had pledged himself to Tenniel.

"Look on the bright side, my young friend. At least we're not being chased out of town by an angry mob," he said, remembering the last time he had been in that situation. A decade seemed to pass by so quickly.

"Yeah, not _yet_!" Alistair scowled back at him, then kicked up a thick chunk of dirt and snow-covered grass with his noisy boots.

* * *

><p>'<em>The bread baker's daughter.'<em>

_Zevran stared at the four words on the death note before crumpling it in his hand, making sure to keep a mask of nonchalance on his face before meeting his patrona's gaze._

"_So, will you silence my little songbird for me? She has flown from her cage and must be punished." A young noblewoman wearing canary-colored silk lay sprawled across a divan, her long dark hair in almost as much disarray as her skirts. The air was thick with fragrant sandalwood mixed with the musky scent of her sex, and she gave him a satisfied smile as she reached for a glass of wine on the nearby table._

"_Sí, Contessa. I will return when the deed is done." He stood up and bowed, lowering his eyes as he prepared to step out of the room._

_She smirked at him, dismissing him with an air of haughty disdain. "Of course you will. I have paid the Crows handsomely for _all_ of your services. Now get out of my sight, elf." She pulled her skirts down and crossed her legs, content in the knowledge that he would obey._

_Zevran crossed his arms behind his back and walked out of her chambers. The fingers of his right hand were still slick with her juices, much like his face, and the Crow marveled at how vastly different life was in the port city of Rialto compared to his Antiva City. There, a noblewoman would at least attempt to show some discretion before letting her entire household know she was bedding a Crow, let alone an elf. Or two. He clenched his jaw, half-sickened at the wicked little games the Contessa played. Wives of merchants and pirates were all alike. Some just took it a step too far._

_She had hired the bread baker's daughter several weeks ago, after she heard the girl singing during one of her deliveries. The Contessa would not take no for an answer, and she forced the young elf to entertain her with her voice and with her nubile, innocent body. Little did she know that Nadia was a pious young woman who considered her mistress's affections to be an affront against the Maker himself. But Zevran had known. He had watched the lovely young country girl weep and kneel in penitence, praying every night until finally, she could take no more. Nadia had escaped that morning. And now she would pay with her life. _

_Zevran had refused to act quickly, even though he knew the girl would likely return home to her family. Rural townsfolk were so predictable. He finally caught up with her three days later at a small village west of Salle. And of course, she had sequestered herself in the chantry. He was confronted with open hostility when he inquired about the girl's whereabouts._

"_My sister is not to be disturbed. I don't know who you are, or what you're doing here, but Nadia's been through enough. Stay away from her, outsider!"_

_Both elven and human villagers had treated him with suspicion and disdain, urging him to leave quickly and 'pray to the Maker for forgiveness'. And he longed to oblige them; about the leaving quickly, that is. The entire town was practically gleaming with holiness and virtue, and there wasn't even a wine merchant, let alone a whore house, in sight. He hadn't been able to sneak into the chantry until nightfall, and even then, there were so many villagers hanging about he had to keep a hooded cloak on._

_The young elven girl didn't even look up when he touched her shoulder. "Ah, so the Crows have found me, even here. The time has come for me to pay for my sins."_

"_Not your sins. Just the mistake of displeasing the wealthy. I'm afraid I have no choice." Zevran noted how the rays of moonlight shining through a high window were competing with the dim candlelight to illuminate her somber features. Yes, she was lovely. Such a waste._

"_We _all_ have choices. But no matter. The Maker has given me the strength to face death, beautiful assassin. I welcome you." Nadia replied._

"_And I admire your courage. Here, have some sweetmeats, and let us talk about the Maker, or whatever it is you wish to discuss."_

_She glanced up at him and gathered a couple of candies from his palm. One would have been enough. "No, I'm sorry. I would rather continue the chant, while I still have breath left in my body. What was your name again?"_

"_Zevran. Zevran Arainai."_

"_That is a nice name. Zevran Arainai, may you live in interesting times." She cursed him softly, then chewed and swallowed her candied pear pieces. _

"_I always do," the Crow replied. As curses went, it was fairly mild compared to what he was used to hearing._

"_Those were delicious." She bowed her head, and began reciting the Canticle of Trials. "I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade. For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's light. And nothing that he has wrought…" she gasped, and slumped over._

"_And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost." Zevran finished for her. "Draw your last breath, my friend. Cross the Veil and The Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven." He kissed Nadia's forehead, placed his stolen cloak over her body and snuck out of the sanctuary. _

_Unfortunately, her brother stood waiting just outside the chantry doors, and angrily confronted him along with four other elves. By the time he was finished talking to them, it was too late. A few chantrites had discovered the girl's corpse, and within a few minutes, he was being chased by an irate mob, their blood no doubt boiling with righteous indignation._

_The entire town was quickly roused to action, intent on hanging him for his crime. They chased him with pitchforks and torches as if he was one of the fabled witches of the Tellari Swamps. And they would have been in the right. A Crow who got caught in the act was no Crow at all. If he hadn't been able to lose the crowd before they reached the gates of Rialto, his life would have been forfeit_

_He hated having to do business in rural villages. They were just no fun at all._

* * *

><p>The Warden and her companions spent the next hour combing through every nook and cranny of the town below the Haven chantry, both inside and outside of the houses. Once they were convinced no one else was lying in wait, the fighters fed and watered all four horses and left them in an empty barn after washing and brushing them down for the night.<p>

Wynne drank a lyrium potion, then sat and rested, preparing to finish casting a greater glyph. The fighters joined her with some loaves they had confiscated from a nearby house and they all enjoyed a quick meal of grilled fish and bread.

Three party members then trekked back up the hill and stood in front of the chantry right before sunset. Alistair bent down to pet the mabari and sighed. "You know what? I'm _so_ glad we Fereldans don't use horses much. That's a _lot_ of work."

"Hahahah, better that than taking two days to get here on foot. Besides, I thought for _sure_ the templars would've made the young trainees work in the stables every now and again. All of Highever's squires had to do it, too. It builds _character_!"

"Yeah, I've done it before, but I don't _enjoy_ it. You sound just like the Knight-Commander. You can take your sodding character and _shove it. _I'm beat."

Tenniel took a deep breath of cold air and huffed out a plume of fog, sympathizing with her fellow warden. The temperature had dropped considerably since the sun started going down, and working so hard had been the only thing that kept them warm. "Well, look alive a little while longer, everybody. Terri, run down and guard the mage. She's got some food for you, too."

They all watched as the huge, black-and-tan mabari ran down the hill and disappeared behind a group of trees to join Wynne. "Alright, boys. It's up to us, now. I'll try not to draw first blood in the sanctuary, but if it can't be helped…"

"We will do what must be done, Warden." Zevran reassured her.

* * *

><p>"This sacred duty is given to us alone. Rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive Her."<p>

The Warden, Zevran and Alistair watched a man in Tevinter-style mage's robes standing in front of the chantry altar, addressing a small group of people. There were over a dozen women and children and three wan-faced, lanky men amongst them. Four armed guards leaned against the walls to the right and left of the pews, thoroughly engrossed by the priest's words.

"Lift up your voices, and despair not, for She will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her…" the man ceased his sermon and rolled his eyes in annoyance as he saw Zevran and Tenniel walk towards him.

Tenniel stopped and stood with her arms crossed, not wanting to disrupt the ceremony.

But the man beckoned them forward, sighing in resignation. "I understand that you are new here, but common courtesy dictates that one shouldn't interrupt…"

"Trust me, the _last_ thing we wanted to do was interrupt. So by all means, please continue. Unless, of course, _you've_ been the one sending your fellow townsfolk to their deaths…"

The priest glared at her angrily and narrowed his eyes before giving a curt nod to a couple of reavers standing off to the side, signaling them to prepare. "No matter. We were just about done here anyway."

A young red-haired woman with a dirty face stepped forward, her belly swollen with child. She seemed oblivious to the tension in the room. "But your Reverence! We have not completed the Sacraments of the Holy Mother or… or sung the Invocation…" she protested, then stopped and cringed at the force of the priest's livid gaze.

The revered father sighed heavily. "Be calm, Nuada. We have honored _guests. _Surely the Sacraments can wait."

"Yes, Father Eirik," she bowed her head and stepped back to join the other villagers.

Zevran eyed the reavers alongside the wall and nudged Tenniel with his elbow before sighing dramatically. "How nightmarish to live in such a rural village, the only entertainment being priests who go on about the chant of this and that! Just _once_ I'd like to walk into one of these places and discover a lively dance, or a drinking festival. Or an orgy. But alas, no."

Tenniel giggled loudly, then nodded back to indicate she was aware of the situation. Even Alistair chuckled at the elf's perverse words. The priest, however, was not amused. He gazed sternly at Zevran for a few seconds before finally waving his hands in dismissal.

"That is all for today, my children. I shall see you tomorrow. For now, I should see to our visitors."

"Yes, but don't go too far. We still need to get acquainted, after all." Tenniel addressed the rag-tag villagers and sneered as she watched them exit the sanctuary. A few of them looked askance at her as they passed through the chantry doors, but she knew they would be unaware of the trap waiting for them just down the hill.

Wynne had prepared a large and elaborate glyph of paralysis in the middle of the downhill path. She insisted it would hold up to thirty people in place for at least a quarter of an hour. Similar tactics were often employed to control crowds that tried to incite violence against mages whenever healers visited a town without a templar escort.

The Warden had insisted that Terri stay behind to guard Wynne in case the glyph didn't hold. She doubted the weak-looking village folk would be able to get past her war hound.

At last, the hinges stopped squealing and the doors closed behind the last villager. Tenniel let her arms hang loosely at her sides and calmed the sudden urge to reach for her swords as she walked closer to the priest. "There really was no need to end the sermon, you know. We could have just discussed our… differences… in a civilized manner."

"Yes, differences. All you outsiders bring your _differences_ here. And that's why we can't just let you leave. What will you do? Tell the others about us?" Father Eirik replied disdainfully.

"_What_ others? Are you talking about the darkspawn? Because they're _all_ that's going to be left out there, if we don't find a miracle. You know why we're here. I've seen the dead Redcliffe knights. You must know they were looking for the urn, too. Why won't you just let us get what we want?"

"We are not concerned about the urn, and we _don't_ care what happens down in the lowlands!"

"You may not care _now_, but when the archdemon brings its darkspawn to _your_ gates after it's done with the rest of us lowlanders, you may regret your callousness." She sighed and lowered her voice a little before continuing in a more soothing tone. "Look, we are not trying to bring harm to you or your people. We just want to…"

Father Eirik interrupted her, all but shouting. "That's what you _all _say! 'We _just_ want this', or' we _jus_t want to do that'. But _we_ know better. We are the _true _believers. And we find outsiders… disruptive. They bring others, and before long, Haven is changed. We will go to _any_ lengths to prevent that."

"_Any_ lengths? And here I thought you seemed to be refreshingly sane, compared to the others we've run into today. For a priest, you are quick to resort to drastic measures. If you don't care about the urn, then why won't you just let us take a pinch of the ashes and go? Mark my words, we _will _do what must be done, with or without your cooperation. We wardens have a Blight to deal with."

"You outsiders will never be satisfied. You'll send more unbelievers… false priests and scholars… and… no! We can't have that. We _will_ protect what is ours. You understand a man's' need to protect his family, don't you?"

Zevran signaled to Alistair before stepping forward. "Certainly. And _I_ will protect _mine_."

* * *

><p><em>Patrona <em>(antivan) - employer


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks**

_**Author's note: **Mahalo to all who have been patiently waiting for the next installment. I'm back home and prepared to start writing at least two chapters a month. Please review, and by all means - please let me know if you'd like to be a copy editor. My apologies for any mistakes in this unbeta'd story._

* * *

><p>The two rogues glanced at each other and stepped forward with swords in hand. Words were not necessary as Tenniel's eyes moved to the priest, then quickly back to Zevran. She gave him a subtle nod and smiled knowingly.<p>

Wind howled through the eaves above them as they each ran toward the reavers, feinted and seemed to blend into the shadows as they sprinted back towards Father Eirik. She dodged an icy staff blast, ducked, turned on her heel and tumbled towards the mage, aiming low with a swift kick to his knee. The revered father was momentarily caught off guard, unable to release his next spell before Zevran's saw sword appeared from the shadows and caught him in the ribs. Tenniel quickly followed up with two strikes to his gut and then sliced open his thigh with her poisoned blade.

Only two seconds had passed, and the reavers screamed in dismay as their priest slumped to his knees. Time seemed to slow as he fell face-down in front of the altar, and they watched in horror as Tenniel stood up and flicked the blood from one of her swords in a defiant gesture. Now it was three against four.

"_When facing a group of enemies, always be quick to neutralize the mages first," _she remembered Walter's sage advice. _"It will make for an easier battle, not having to worry about sudden ice or fire or some other nasty conjurations, not to mention it will demoralize the others if their healer is gone."_

The priest's staff clanged loudly and rolled against the ground, released from his death grip. Chaos ensued as the enraged cultists finally caught up to the fast-moving lowlanders.

Alistair was right behind the two who had ventured over from the left side of the chantry, and he bashed one of them with his shield just as Tenniel parried with another Havenite. Zevran made quick work of an axe-wielder and was drawing out the remaining fighter, pressing his advantage. Twenty seconds later, five fresh corpses decorated the chantry floor.

"That was almost too easy." Tenniel yanked a cloth off the altar and used it to clean her blades.

Alistair looked down in dismay. "We killed a priest!" He glowered at the Antivan, as if the elven foreigner was to blame.

Zevran shrugged, took the cloth from the Warden and quickly wiped his own swords off with the other end. "And we will plead with the Maker for forgiveness," he replied nonchalantly.

"Yeah, what Zevran said. And besides, that priest is the one who started it." Tenniel sighed, feeling a bit jaded.

"It _still_ doesn't feel right, even if it was a male priest." Alistair grumbled.

"Alistair, killing someone should _never_ feel right, no matter who it is," she murmured, then rolled her eyes and bent down to get a closer look at the amulet around Father Eirik's neck.

Zevran glanced up at the chandeliers and shook his head. He thought he heard someone groan, but it was probably just the wind. "Exactly, my young friend. That is what separates us from cold-blooded murderers."

"This advice is just great… coming from a hired assassin and a bounty hunter. I suppose I should be glad that you two are on my side." Alistair took off his helmet and started walking towards the pews.

"Oh, so now you're lumping me in with the Crows, huh? Thanks for the compliment. I'll be sure to pray for forgiveness an extra long time tonight. Or maybe not. We all have to sleep sometime." Tenniel chuckled at Alistair's frown. The younger warden's brow wrinkled with perplexity as he tried to figure out if she was poking fun at his serious musings.

Zevran watched as his Warden placed a few gold pieces into her coin purse and reached for the dead priest's pendant. "That is one strange-looking amulet. Are you going to take it?"

"Yep. You read my mind. Let's…. what was that?" she stood up and cocked her head to one side. Zevran started walking to the right side of the building and she followed him quietly.

"What was what?" Alistair yelled, his voice echoing through the chantry.

"Shhh! I thought I heard someone… there!" Tenniel pointed to a section of the wall.

Zevran pushed against it, and a loud clicking sound was heard as the false panel gave way. "Ah ha! See, these rural villages always have some nasty little secrets hidden away."

The air was stale, thick with the smell of moldy tomes and urine. All three fighters walked into the room and proceeded to help untie the older man who was moaning pitifully on the floor of the hidden library.

"Hey… oh! Thank the Maker. You're not one of _them_," the man muttered and looked up at Alistair, then drank from the flask of water he offered. "Did Weylon finally convince the revered mother to send a templar way out here and rescue me?"

"Who's Weylon?" Tenniel stood over him and tapped her foot impatiently, eager to get some answers.

"He's my servant, back in Denerim. And the best assistant that a scholar could hope for."

"Oh, you mean _was_ your servant. One of the reavers said they killed him and got rid of your books. Sorry for your loss," she replied, almost flippantly. Alistair looked at her sharply, in almost perfect imitation of Wynne's disapproving frowns.

"Oh… that's… that's just awful. The poor lad…" the man was crestfallen, and it seemed as if he was about to cry.

Tenniel quickly interrupted. "Anyway, Alistair's not a templar. Just borrowing some armor. We're Grey Wardens, and we're looking for the Urn of Andraste. Who are you?"

"Brother Genitivi, at your service. So… you're Grey Wardens, looking for the Urn? What's going on? I'll do my best to answer all of your questions, but you've got to fill me in on what's happening out there in the rest of Thedas. I've been trapped here with these insane cultists for two months…"

"Patience, patience. We've got all night. Now let's go outside and have our healer take a look at you. That leg has got to hurt."

* * *

><p>"But we <em>must<em> do it tonight! The ground is only going to get colder over the next few days. It is snowing now, and we need to tend to our dead before the soil freezes!" Nuada seemed distraught.

Tenniel wondered why the villagers let the young pregnant woman speak for them. The death of Father Eirik and the guards seemed to subdue them considerably. No one else would even meet her eyes after she had returned from the chantry and declared that her party had bested the priest. Zevran suggested that the townsfolk swear an oath to the Maker and Andraste that they would not attempt to fight them, and all had readily agreed.

As soon as the mage disabled her glyph, the Havenites had insisted on burying the bodies, despite protests from Wynne and Alistair. The Warden had grown tired of their arguments, and finally told the two to respect the wishes of the townsfolk no matter how strange their behavior seemed.

"It's bad enough we've killed off so many of their kin. Not everyone burns their dead. And it looks to me like their version of the Chantry has been around a lot longer than ours, after all." Brother Genitivi's affirmation of these customs put her companions at ease, and they all prepared to find shelter for the night while the Havenites gathered under torchlight to complete their somber task.

No one was willing to stay in the chantry overnight. Zevran, Wynne and Alistair set up a makeshift camp in one of the abandoned houses, trying their best to cover the broken wall panels with bits of hide to seal out the bitter cold winds that were streaming down the mountainside. Tenniel gathered tinder and was busy chopping firewood when she suddenly heard Terri barking. A young male villager clad in bearskin was approaching.

"A moment of your time, Ser." He seemed hesitant to approach, and glanced around nervously, as if afraid someone had followed him.

Tenniel set down the axe and glared at the man, wondering why his accent was different from the other townsfolk. "Yes, what is it? And what's your name?"

"I… I am Sithig Ar Kattrin O Frosthold, and I have a request to make of ye, and a warning to tell if you're planning to venture to the mountaintop. Please… please, hear me out. My sister and I, we're not really from this village. Haven't been here very long… and I…" he stammered breathlessly.

"Calm down, Sithig. I'm not going to bite. Start from the beginning. I thought the Havenites killed all outsiders… so what are Avvarian clansmen doing up here?"

The man relaxed considerably once he realized Tenniel was familiar with Avvars. "Not _all_ outsiders, Ser. My eldest sister and I fled from our hold nigh on four summers past. Wyrmhold's axmen bested our clan, and our father, the chieftain was among the first to perish, along with our mother. My sister, Keirtha, feared we were going to be made an example of. So we snuck out of the hold and journeyed east that night. We traveled for days, lost our way and were near starving by the time we found Haven. The priest… he took pity on us. We were only teens, then. We agreed to forget our false pagan gods and pray only to Holy Andraste."

"I take it that wasn't so bad, eh?"

"No, it was not – not at first. Korth the Mountain-Father had forsaken our clan. We were not about to refuse help from these strange townsfolk. Later, we found this to be a common practice. Some of the reavers have even raided travelling camps and captured children and women of child-bearing age, like Nuada, the dead father's third wife. Hale pups are rarely borne in this accursed town. The babes are either stillborn or perish along with the mothers. Young women are often… taken… by the priest, or sent to the mountaintop as holy companions to the reavers. All to the _glory_ of Andraste, of course." The man spat, as if the thought was distasteful.

The Warden became apprehensive and was starting to second-guess her decision to leave the rest of the townsfolk to their own devices. "Of course. So, why are you telling me this?"

"It's the dragons, Ser. They're worshipping a foul _dragon_! I was not even aware of the secret until this Solis, when my sister took the Holy Sacrament and was called to the mountaintop. All Avvars know that dragons are _evil_. But these people worship them and commit all sorts of unspeakable acts. I… I would have left as soon as I found out, but I have never been much of a fighter. I am much better at tending to the fields and livestock, and would be content to try and escape this place and hire myself out as a farmhand in one of the lowland towns for the rest of my life. But my sister… they took her up there and I have not heard from her in months. And I cannot leave until I learn what has become of her."

"So, you have been to the mountaintop?"

"Yes, Ser. I have been there a few times to deliver cattle. I would be glad to tell you all that I know, if you would only help me find Keirtha."

"Call me Tenniel. Help me grab some wood and let's go inside. I want the others to hear about this."

* * *

><p>"And <em>that<em> is why I do not want you to go up there at all!" Zevran argued, whispering loudly. He and Tenniel were trying to keep their voices low since Wynne and the others were in the main room, preparing to bed down after their evening meal of roast chicken and pumpkin soup. The walls were thin.

Tenniel finished her stand-up bath and patted her face dry with a clean linen rag. "Out of the question, and you know it."

"Yes, I am well aware that there is no reasoning with you when you have already made up your mind, _mujera loca_!" He gestured for emphasis and placed his hands on his hips, glaring at her angrily as his shadow danced against the tiny room's soot-stained walls.

"Hey! Stop cursing at me in Antivan. I agreed to use stealth and avoid fighting as much as possible. What more do you want from me?"

"I do not want anything from you. Can you not see that I am simply trying to keep you alive and… undamaged?" Zevran was grateful for the privacy the room offered, even if it was a bit cramped.

"Undamaged, huh. Is that what you would call it? I heard Sithig's story, same as you did. And I'm not afraid to face those murdering rapists, with or without your approval." She watched as Zevran clenched his jaw in anger, and she continued in a more soothing tone as she dried off her arms and chest in front of the fireplace. "But I would rather not have to worry about them killing you, too. Please, Zevran. It's for the best. We _have_ to get the urn as quickly as possible. And as much as I try not to sometimes, I _do_ care about the mark that I leave on this world. I do not want to be known as the Butcher of Haven. Even though it would be easier to just wipe out the entire town…"

"But you... you cannot simply take the easy way out, can you?" Zevran shook his head, sighed, and let his shoulders relax in mock resignation.

"Well, I wouldn't be here with you if I took the easy way out."

"Come now, keeping me alive has not been so regrettable, has it?" he grinned devilishly at her.

She couldn't resist giggling back at him. No matter how upset or serious she felt, he always had a way of making her laugh. Tenniel walked toward the almost-naked Antivan and admired his tattooed chest before placing her hands on his shoulders.

"No fair. You shouldn't be allowed to argue with me in your smallclothes," she teased. Tenniel continued in a more serious tone, "It's not that I disagree with you, Zevran. There's just no alternative."

"I am more than capable of …"

"No! I cannot, _will not_ let you go up there alone. I thought I lost you for just a moment today, and I panicked… you have no idea… I cannot bear it." She held her hand over her heart, as if the very thought of losing him was physically painful. "If… if I had to wait around and wonder if you were alright or not… _no_. If anything happened to you, I would surely go berserk."

"Well, then. We cannot have that." He was momentarily speechless, surprised by the depth of emotion her gaze conveyed. Zevran drew her in closer and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, listening to her heartbeat. She returned his embrace and held on longer than was necessary, as if she did not want to let go.

_I am stronger than I was. But am I strong enough to protect her from herself? She is as much afraid for me as I am for her. This is maddening! How do normal people have families and live like this?_

"Tenniel, it seems we are at an impasse. I cannot convince you to let me do this alone, and you cannot convince me to stay behind and let you attempt to neutralize that Kolgrim person all by yourself. So there is no other way. We will do this together."

"I…" she tensed, as if about to object, then looked into his eyes and nodded. "Alright. But don't forget there's the dragon, too."

"Yes, yes, the dragon. And all of her offspring. See? This is why you need me, more than ever…"

"Well, I was going to try and get rid of Kolgrim first, then come back to get you for the dragon-hunting. But this way, we can try and do both at the same time."

"Time _is_ of the essence, Warden."

"I know. And I _do_ need you." She kissed him, softly at first. Her kisses became greedier as his tongue delved into her mouth. She nipped his lip playfully, not wanting to become distracted before she finished the conversation. They then stood in each other's arms in front of the fire for a few minutes, listening to the wind roar against the house as they both reflected on the information they learned that night.

"Sithig's sister is probably dead by now," Zevran stated, breaking the silence.

"That's what I was thinking, too. But if it was me, I would do everything in my power to make sure, too. I promised to look for Keirtha. And if, by some miracle, she's still alive – well, who knows. Maybe I can convince him to travel to Peakhold and live there once this is over. He's a good herdsman, and they could certainly use another farmer up there come springtime."

She yawned and walked towards the gray and white wolf pelts that were lying next to their bedrolls. Sithig may have not been a good fighter, but he had successfully defended his herd against the wolves and had plenty of furs to offer as proof. They were glad he had donated them before he left – they had packed light and needed the extra warmth.

"Perhaps." Zevran watched her rub her lower back. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she waved his concern away.

"Tsk, tsk, nonsense. Do you need a massage?"

The Warden chuckled as she knelt down to unfurl her bedroll. "It's nothing, really. Just… my menses are due to arrive soon."

"Ah. Then I insist. I will help you relax. It's a shame we have no almond oil or anything like that here."

"Zevran, I don't…" she saw the stern look he gave her and relented, putting up her hands in surrender. "Nevermind. A massage sounds lovely. Thank you, I think."

"Hahaha!" he laughed at her suspicious look.

"What?"

"There is hope."

"Hope for what?"

"Hope of getting _mi mujera loca_ to agree to reason!"

"There you go again…"

"It is not a curse. It means, 'my crazy woman'. Does that not describe you perfectly?"

"Sod off!" she slapped his arm playfully and rested face-down atop the bedroll, content to feel his hands against the sensitive skin of her recently-healed back.

* * *

><p>"Wow, she must've been really serious about praying for forgiveness…" Alistair mumbled.<p>

"That's one way to put it. Hush, while I try to remember the muting spell." Wynne closed her eyes and sat cross-legged, pressing her forefingers together with her hands clasped in front of her.

"I'll have to buy an amulet like Genitivi's the next time I'm in Denerim," he replied, ignoring her admonishment. He stepped over the mabari who was snoring peacefully by the fire, his left paw still outstretched over the lamb bone he had been gnawing on. Alistair wished he could be as oblivious to the noises coming from the other room.

"This little gadget was worth every penny. I live across from a tavern, after all." The scholar drank the potion Wynne had prescribed and began to activate his amulet. "So, is that elf the Lady Tenniel's servant, or…"

"No, he's not a servant. He's an assassin, one of the Antivan Crows that Teyrn Loghain hired to kill us. And she doesn't like to be called Lady anything. She's a warden now."

"Oh, I meant no offense. An assassin, really? Talk about strange bedfellows…"

"No offense taken, just thought I'd warn you." Alistair shrugged and added another log to their fire, intent on ignoring the rest of the brother's comment.

"Understood. Thank you, young man. My, I can't believe it's been almost a year since the last landsmeet. I remember the Cousland ladies presented the Denerim chantry with a gift for the widows and orphans fund. She… Tenniel, seemed fierce but very friendly and approachable. Hard to imagine her ending up as a warden, of all things. But here we are…" he yawned and stretched.

"_Maker, maker, maker! Ohhh, mmmph, mmmph, Zevran!" _

Brother Genitivi's eyes widened and he quickly activated his amulet before resting his head against the furs.

Alistair grimaced and covered his ears. "La, la, la, la, la, la, la."

The mage finally muttered a quick incantation, and a violet-colored bubble formed over her and Alistair. She rolled her eyes and crawled over to him, moving his hands away from his ears.

"That was nothing," Wynne interrupted. "Be glad you were in the cottage a couple nights ago, instead of at the inn proper. Everyone in the Spoiled Princess was complaining about the noise. I just hope this holds until they're finished."

"Bless you, Wynne."

* * *

><p><em>Sithig Ar Kattrin O Frosthold<em> – Sithig, son of Kattrin (mother), of the clan Frosthold

_Solis _(Solace) – the seventh month of the Thedas calendar; July


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks**

_**Author's note: **Sorry it's taken so long to post another chapter. This one has a rather large flashback, but Zevran was feeling nostalgic and I couldn't help but indulge him. Please review. Mahalo!_

* * *

><p><em>It was always the little things that amazed him the most. Her smile when she looked at him knowingly, as if she dared him to say no, her cheeks dimpling with as much glee as a thieving child in a sweetmeat vendor's stall. Her hands, soft yet calloused as her fingertips traced his tattoos. The way she rubbed her nipples against his chest, always fidgeting even as he held her in control. The taste and smell of her skin, slick with sweat as they coupled in front of the fireplace. The way she gasped, eyes wide open and lips parted like he was more wondrous than the most talented first enchanter when he always found just the right spot. Her sultry voice repeating his name over and over again, like a shaman caught in a trance. The way she kissed him, greedy and desperate for more, almost whimpering with need when he stopped, teasing her just a little. The soft smiles she gave him afterward, sleepy and satiated, insisting that some part of her touch him, even as they relaxed and let the air cool their bodies. These things; so little and yet all together so much. He could not put these things into words. They were worth so much more.<em>

* * *

><p>"What are you looking at?" he asked her, softly, so as not to awake their companions in the next room. He could already hear someone snoring. She finished at the washing basin and rearranged her shift and their smallclothes that were hanging on a line a few feet above and in front of the fireplace. He scooted over as she sat down and pressed her hip against his thigh. It was starting to feel colder again, and her warm, soft curves were more than welcome.<p>

Tenniel smiled and winked at him. "Oh, just about the cutest assassin I've ever laid my eyes on, that's all."

He grimaced and made a gesture as if he was shooing her words away. "Hmmph. Cute? _Brasca!_ I am a grown man. This… _cute_… that is something reserved for Orlesian shoes and small furry animals. Not…"

"You're beautiful. Ah yes, and you're Antivan silk, honey, sharp daggers and all things extremely sexy and dangerous. And you're still cute."

Zevran raised one eyebrow and placed his hand above where she was rubbing his arm. "Is that supposed to be poetic? You and your Fereldan nonsense."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged off his derision. "Hmm... speaking of honey, I'm hungry," she admitted, abruptly changing the subject.

"Again?" Zevran sat up and ran his fingers through his tangled hair, rumpling it up even further before he yawned and stretched. He smirked down at her as she chuckled at his messy locks. "Just a moment. I set aside a stash of foodstuffs earlier. Wardens and their large appetites… tsk, tsk. I had a feeling you would want another meal."

She gave his backside a playful smack that he purposefully dodged a bit too slow. "You did? Then add clairvoyance to your list of skills. I had better watch out, you're beginning to read me like a book. Pretty soon I'll be too boring for you."

"No fear on that account, _mí corazón_. The book is fool of strange words and the plot is constantly changing for no apparent reason. I have yet to find a good translator," he replied as he rummaged through their stack of supplies.

"Shut up and bring on the grub, you," she grumbled, pretending to be rude and gruff-sounding, just like her mentor. He watched as she gathered up her hair and tied it back into a ponytail.

Truth be told, he was a little hungry himself. They shared a snack of bread, goat cheese and a bottle of dark red wine he had purloined from the chantry. She didn't ask where he had gotten it, and he didn't enlighten her.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, until she finally lay back down against her bedroll. Tenniel looked up at the reflection of the flames flickering against the walls and ceiling with her arms behind her head, naked and confident and as bold as a barbarian. "Zevran, what do you think about this quest to find Andraste's ashes? And what do you think about our chantry compared to Haven's version?"

He stared at her a few seconds before answering her. _There she goes again, with her bright eyes, asking me some serious question as if what I say really matters. What am I going to do with this crazy woman?_

"In Antiva, we have a saying, _'Some mysteries cannot be explained.'_ I try not to think about such things overmuch. It is not my place to question faith. It is what it is."

"Hmm… I suppose that's one way to look at it." She was silent for a while and sipped her third cup of wine before continuing. "I've been feeling… regretful. All day, I've been wondering what exactly am I doing on this quest and why we're up here. I mean, I went to the chantry as a pup, just like everyone else. And I half-memorized some verses of the Chant. But do I really have faith? I don't really believe that the urn's going to be there, no matter what that scholar says. It seems so… unreal to me. Do you understand?"

"Completely. Especially when these villagers living here have an entirely different way of interpreting the same canticles." He looked down at her for a few seconds and then sat beside her as he started to comb his hair, very pleased to see that she was so relaxed and open. _And very_ v_ulnerable. What will she say next?_

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Who are _we_ to barge in here and fight these people in their own homes, just because somebody told us we had to do it?"

"Perhaps it is just like any other sort of mission, hmmm? Come now, surely this is no worse than a bounty hunt. You have your objective, you know the target that must be eliminated, and you know the reason why. In fact, this is probably more straightforward than the usual bounty because you are doing this for survival instead of for money. We _have_ to do this to get that Arl what's-his-name to raise an army for us to fight the blight."

"Eamon."

"What?"

"The nobleman's name is Eamon. And yes… no… maybe. I guess. It just… damn it! I feel so unsettled. Something is not quite right. This isn't just a run-of-the-mill bounty hunt, and these people are _not_ all a bunch of killers deserving to be wiped out. The other day, when I fell into that crevice and passed out for a while, I dreamed I was in the fade and my mother talked to me..."

"You passed out and had a fade-dream? It's a good thing I insisted Jeanelle see to your wounds afterward. Why did you never tell me this?" He gave her a cross look.

"Well… there was no time. And I'm telling you now, so _anyways_… I dreamt of my mother. She pretty much told me that everyone is depending on me. Which I already knew. But why do I have to go and do _this_ to these townsfolk? Sure, some of them are dragon-worshippers and that's… evil. The crazy ones should definitely go. But it just doesn't feel right, to have to destroy these people's way of life just to save the rest of Ferelden."

"Warden, you are thinking too much. Who says you have to destroy their lifestyle?" He finished tidying his hair, placed the small comb in his pack and carefully retrieved a few spearmint leaves from another pocket.

Tenniel was starting to sound frustrated. "Come on, you and I both know that brother Genitivi isn't going to take no for an answer. He's going to blab about this village and anything we find up there, and before you know it, Denerim or the Grand Cleric is going to send some templars up here on some sort of crusade. So much for Haven."

"So much for Haven, indeed. That is the _least_ of our concerns." He turned back towards her and lightly brushed his knuckles against her jaw line. "We do not even know if there's anything to be found up there yet. When the time comes, you will make the right choice. I am sure of it. Why do you think I wanted to follow you? I said to myself, 'Zevran, this deadly sex goddess just spared your life! There are sure to be some interesting times to be had following her around...' "

"You sure do know how to put things into respective, " she mumbled, nibbling on the spearmint he shared with her.

"Don't you mean perspective?" He smiled at her, letting her know that he was just teasing.

Tenniel poked him in the ribs and giggled. "Interesting times, eh? I've been called worse." She sighed and snuggled closer to him. "You know, when I first met you outside of Lothering, when you tried to kill me, I just _knew_ you were going to be different. You fought fiercely, but your eyes were so sad, as if you wanted to die. Just like I did. And when you started talking after you regained consciousness, and you made me laugh… _Maker_! I… how could I say no to you?"

He stilled for a moment, and then hugged her reassuringly, hoping she would continue talking about whatever was bothering her. Zevran kissed her cheek and she sighed, closing her eyes.

"No one has ever wanted to just do something for _me_. You pledged yourself to me. Not to my family, not the country, or the wardens, but _me_. Why'd you do that, Zevran? And then you did it again, up in Peakhold. We're bonded, and I want to touch you all the time, and the thought of not having you near me makes me panic. Why, Zevran, _why_? Why'd you do it? How can you just… follow me like this, and trust me to make the right decisions?"

"I… I do not know the answer, Tenniel. Why did you save my life and offer me your friendship, and more? You… you are _mi tierra, mi cielo, mi vida_. I would make the same choices, a thousand times. Do not worry. Only the Maker can judge what is right and wrong. I will not leave your side, no matter what you do. I am yours, _mi amora_."

She was silent for several moments, and he feared that he had said too much. They had agreed to not speak of feelings, and here he was, breaking his own rules. Zevran tensed, then relaxed as she resumed stroking his side.

"You're right. Perhaps I am just worrying over nothing. What I really want to do is slaughter some dragon spawn. I feel this inane urge to run up there to the caves, swords keening for blood and just go on a rampage while everyone else is asleep."

"Rampage away!"

"Huh?"

"As long as I join you in the slaughter, that is."

"Uh, alright." She suddenly yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Or, I suppose we can try to get some sleep and navigate the ruins and the caves in the daylight…"

"That is fine too. Whatever you decide is best."

"Argghh! That's exactly what I've been trying to say! How can I decide what's _best_ if all the options are shitty and I don't even truly believe that what I'm doing is the right thing? I'm supposed to be in charge. Supposed to have all the answers. But all I can do is… all I can do is try to do what I think is best." Her words trailed off and her brow creased with worry. "This is so confusing!"

"Some mysteries cannot be explained, dear Warden. Life happens. There is no sense in losing too much sleep over it…"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. I talk too much when I drink wine. And you're pretty smart, you know that?"

"Yes, I have often been told I am pretty and smart …"

"Oh, you! Come here!" she grabbed his shoulder, pulled him down on top of her and kissed him. "I don't care what the others say, you're the best advisor a warden could ever have."

"And you are tipsy and tired. Go to sleep, Tenniel. There will be plenty of dragons for us to fight tomorrow, of that I am sure of. No one is going to venture out in that snowing storm in the dark, and that is final. You might get lost."

"I'm glad you're coming with me." She whispered to him very softly. "Don't tell anybody, but I've always been afraid of getting lost in some caves in the dark."

"I know. Your secret is safe, _mi amora_." He whispered back at her and kissed her again, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"Hmmm? How'd you know?" she demanded, sleep and wine combining to make her words an almost incoherent slur.

"You were mumbling last night, when you were hurt." He chuckled as she buried her nose in his neck and he breathed in her hair's scent of wine, mint and leather as they embraced with the wolf fur blankets at their feet. _This_ was the Tenniel he adored the most, the one he wanted to keep hidden like a treasured jewel. No one would ever suspect that the aloof, no-nonsense warden, the polite noblewoman, the skilled hunter of man and beast was a giggling, sleep-talking, silly, blanket thief who loved to cuddle. And even more so after three cups of wine.

"Mumblin'? Whatever. You just… you… you be ready to go with me. I'm not ever leaving you behind, so if I get lost, you're gonna be lost too."

"So, why did you argue with me earlier, if that is what you really want, after all?"

"I…" she yawned again and rubbed his back, making slow circles with the palm of her left hand against his skin. It was comforting. "I dunno. Didn't want to think about you getting hurt because of me. Maybe I was just being stupid."

"No, you just think too much." He kissed her forehead, and she was already asleep, breathing softly against his shoulder.

* * *

><p>As usual, Zevran wasn't able to fall asleep right away. He readjusted himself so he was lying between her and his sword on the floor near the fireplace. As unlikely as it was for any villagers to find them in the storm and get past the dog and their companions in the other room, old habits would not let him remain unarmed and naked without some sort of weapon nearby. Just in case. He looked up at the ceiling and thought about Tenniel's words, remembering every detail of their first meeting with perfect clarity…<p>

_The weary assassin sat up from where he had leaned against the wagon to nap, rubbing the tips of his ears for a brief moment to reassure himself that they had not fallen off from the cold. Zevran crouched, watching and waiting as patiently as a coiled adder, anticipating the approach of his prey by the roadside on that chilly autumn morning_.

"_Be ready soon," he warned the mage who was supposed to lure the wardens in with some fanciful tale about being attacked by bandits. That proposed ruse had thoroughly amused the group he hired, especially given the fact that they were the very bandits who usually attacked travelers in these parts. A skinned ox and various other carcasses from their last murderous venture were still scattered along the road before him and would prove to be a good cover story._

_The drunken villager from Lothering had assured him that the wardens would be venturing on this path next, as this was the quickest and most direct route to the town of Redcliffe he had overheard them mentioning while at Dane's Refuge. The dirty, diseased shem had reeked of bad liquor and urine mixed with a touch of dog, and looked to be as filthy as the tattered rags he called clothes as he cackled, gleefully clutching the few coppers rewarded to him for delivering the news. Maker! This country was getting to Zevran. The despair was almost palpable, especially now that the dreaded darkspawn horde was nearby. _

_Antiva's most accomplished assassin ran his fingers through his golden hair, sweeping aside the few strands that always seemed to escape the tidy, neat plaits he braided each day. He froze as a few black birds scattered noisily into the sky, and smirked at their raucous cry. Real crows were harbingers of doom, and it seemed fitting that his only true brothers would be there to witness his end. How he wished he could fly free with them. Soon, it would all be over._

"_Run, go out to meet them now!" he urged her, trying to keep his voice low so the travelers wouldn't be able to hear him. The human mage ran forth eagerly and disappeared around a curve in the road. He crouched low and hid behind the wagon. A few seconds later, he could hear her breathless plea._

"_Oh, thank the Maker! We need help! They attacked the wagon… please help us!" The Crow smiled as he heard the woman's next words, signaling to his party that the wardens had indeed fallen into their clutches. "Follow me! I'll take you to them!"_

_As soon as the woman returned to view and he could see the others following her, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline. He hadn't felt this excited in months. Not since Rinna's blood pooled across the dirty floor of a windmill a few miles away from Antiva City's market district. Was _this_ what it felt like to be alive again? Zevran knew that he would either die here or else have his world turned upside down as soon as he locked eyes with her._

_The maniacal Fereldan nobleman and the accompanying band of sycophants who hired his services in Denerim mentioned that the Grey Wardens had to die by any means necessary. But they weren't quite sure just how many wardens were out there, wandering this backwoods country after the massacre at Ostagar. Precious little information had been passed to him when he took the contract, not that he cared much at the time anyway. Judging by the way the other members of their party deferred to her and looked to her for guidance as soon as they realized they were being ambushed, he knew she had to be one of the wardens._

_A huge Qunari with a characteristically stern expression and equally huge broadsword, a red-haired woman with a wicked-looking bow, a tall human warrior who looked too young to be in such heavy armor carrying a very stylish sword and shield, a wild witch-woman, and - he almost missed it - a blasted dog completed their group. Damn these Fereldans and their gigantic, stinking hounds! _

_But she - she was absolutely exquisite. Long, dark blonde hair wrapped up and tied in some sort of complicated knots like a crown around her head, a beautifully balanced face with oval eyes, long lashes and full, pouty lips. Curves a man would kill for. No doubt her armor had to have been custom made to fit over her bounteous bosom. Zevran swore again, wishing he had time for one last dalliance, this time with the lovely warden before him. She was the kind of woman who would be well-guarded and beloved by many, if she were in his country. The kind of woman who would be either a noble or a treasured courtesan, paraded about and pampered by some foppish idiot of a merchant prince who had no idea how to really please a gorgeous goddess like her._

_He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and looked down, shaking his head for a moment as if to clear confusion. There was no way this filthy, cold, diseased country could have such a beauty fighting amongst the Grey Wardens, right? He glanced again towards the group of well-armed travelers fast approaching them and sighed. No, he was not crazy. With any luck, he'd have the privilege of being executed by her._

_The beautiful creature waved her hand with a gesture at the traps he had set on both hillsides, and she and the rest of her group all reached for their weapons. Zevran swore under his breath. This was not going to go well. They looked well-trained, their armor and weapons were of the finest craftsmanship, and none of them seemed at all perturbed at the prospect of being surrounded by the ragtag group of bandits he had hired to assist. Well, he had come here to die, after all. Better to get it over with quickly._

_The Antivan assassin looked to the whorish mage who led the bandits and nodded. What was her name… Gersel, Griselda? Whatever. That no longer mattered either. The fool woman dared to smirk at him, and he couldn't help but laugh a little to himself at the irony of the situation. The mage had at first treated him with the disdain he had grown accustomed to as an elf, then proved eager to jump into his bedroll after hearing the clink of a few silvers. After a failed attempt to kill him, she had turned out to be a decent enough lay, at least suitable for a middle-class brothel. She had quickly agreed to have her roving band of miscreants join in his plan to ambush the warden. But they were stupid, weak and had no chance at all against these obviously experienced warriors and rogues. _

_It was his turn to gesture, and as he did, several more bandits revealed themselves from amongst the boulders, bushes, overturned wagons and carcasses of the dead cattle scattered amongst the Imperial Highway. The young bowman who had helped him set up the fallen tree trunk to prevent the wardens from backtracking to more open terrain cut the ropes holding up the large log. As it crashed, the beautiful Grey Warden dodged forward and rolled, pushing the red-haired girl out of the way as the tree fell behind them with a crash. Zevran noticed the two warriors were already headed towards the bandits. _Brasca!_ He had better pay attention if they had any hope of making his last battle count as a decent fight._

"_The Grey Warden dies here!" he yelled as he readied his dagger and sword, urging the bandits on._

_Zevran chuckled to himself again, and Griselda, mistaking it for a sign of confidence, hurtled forth with a glyph of paralysis. Which the dog easily dodged before rushing forth and knocking her to the ground. _

_His hired bandits on top of the hills on both sides of the path were already being accosted by the two warriors and the witch. Andraste's ass – had the traps been so easily disarmed already? The Crow dodged one arrow that flew by the right side of his helmeted head, then grunted in pain as he was hit by another in the left shoulder. He looked towards the war hound and winced as he watched the beast claw at the mage's face and chest, turning the woman into a pile of shredded flesh. The dog gave a vicious howl that chilled him to the bone, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, _she_ was upon him._

"_Down, boy. This one is _mine_," the pretty rogue shouted in a husky, alluring tone. _

_Ah, even her voice was beautiful. He ignored the pain and parried with her, dagger to dagger, sword to sword, and Zevran admired the way her hips swayed, just like a dancer as she struck. Exquisite. Suddenly, she jumped in a complicated acrobatic move and positioned herself behind him, knocking his sword away and twisting his right arm around, quickly leaving him with only one weapon. Before he could even try turn and block with his left, he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull. He chuckled to himself, at last remembering Master Varkel's criticism of his sloppy combat skills, despite his having become the best killer in Antiva City. _

_Even after all the Crows' training, he was a lousy fighter after all. The last thing Zevran saw before darkness consumed him was her lovely eyes. Bright green, and full of sadness. So strange…_

"_I found some elfroot over here!" an eager male voice shouted in the distance. _

"_Good, that'll come in handy. It's better when it's fresh," a melodious female voice responded, closer to him._

_Zevran took a deep breath, then groaned as a terrible headache and searing pain from his left shoulder hit him. Thankfully, the arrowhead had gone all the way through, but the shaft was still lodged in, pinning the cured leather armor to his skin as the wound bled beneath his clothing. Merciful Maker, every bone in his body ached. The bruises and cuts from his last scuffle in that Denerim brothel were smarting as well. The Antivan elf tried to roll over, then stopped as he realized his hands were tied behind his back and his legs were also tied at the ankles. The awkward position he was now in hurt even worse, and the burning pain in his shoulder was almost unbearable._

_His movements must have attracted the attention of the blonde warden who had bested him. He squinted up as she came sauntering towards him, the hound treading softly behind her._

"_Oh, so the would-be assassin is awake now, hmm?" She smiled at him, one dimple showing briefly, and he would have responded with a flirtatious comeback if he hadn't blacked out again from being in so much pain._

_Someone had moved him to a slightly more comfortable position, so that his weight was on his right side. He opened his eyes to the light of day and noticed that the gentle breeze from that morning had turned to a stiff gale that was making the branches of the trees above sway much more vigorously._

"_Mmm... what I... oh! I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."_

"_That could be easily rectified. Now shut up! You'll answer when spoken to." She seemed to be ignoring him, refusing to look down at him as she rifled through a pack for something. Her companions were busy gathering up weapons, coin and other usable loot from the warm corpses littering the roadside_.

"_Oh, you're rather an aggressive little minx, aren't you? And lovely too. But as to killing me, of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled. If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?" His thoughts were running along, faster than a chevalier's horse on the imperial highway as he remembered his training. 'Always mimic the speech patterns of your mark - it will make them more amenable to your requests if they feel more at ease in your presence.' Judging by this woman's accent, she was probably high-born, or else used to being around nobles. Despite his earlier death wish, Zevran felt a curious desire to stay alive_.

_She shocked him again by replying in a very un-ladylike, sultry temptress tone; in an almost sing-song voice, "I decided I wanted to torture you, first."_

"_Oh, so you kept me around to have a bit of fun, did you? Hmmm." He quickly masked his astonishment as she stood up and finally looked down towards him, her left eyebrow cocked slightly higher with a questioning look, as if encouraging him to continue his bold speech. "But the purpose behind torture is usually to interrogate, yes? In that case, despite the potential for fun, perhaps I'll save you a bit of time and get right to the point." He smiled up at her, attempting to display a carefree attitude._

_The beautiful minx put her hands on her hips and glanced down at him with those bright green eyes. "Please do." She crossed her arms beneath her bosom, and the red-haired girl who had shot him with her bow walked closer to them as he began his tale._

"_My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly." _

"_Mmmhmm….I'm rather happy you failed."_

"_So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career."_

"_Yes, I figured from the way you fought that you were no simple bandit."_

"_Quite right. I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I come from, we're rather infamous."_

"_You came all the way from Antiva to kill me?"_

"_Not precisely, I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see."_

"_Get around, hmmm? All right, I'll remember that. Now, let me guess who hired you. It had to have been the Teyrn of Gwaren."_

"_A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was. Teyrn Loghain. Yes, that's it."_

_She made a small, disappointed sound, as if she knew exactly who he was referring to. "He's so very predictable. And did he tell you _why_ he wanted me dead?"_

"_I have no idea what his issues were with you. The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes?"_

"_Yes, that goes without saying, I suppose. So, _other_ than killing me, do you have any sort of arrangement with Loghain?"_

"_Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service..."_

"_And now that you've failed that service?" she interrupted and continued pacing slowly to the right._

"_Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself."_

"_When were you to see him next?" She turned on her heel and started walking slowly to the left again, back towards him._

"_I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results... if he didn't already know."_

"_Oh? And what happens to the assassin who fails to kill his mark?"_

"_If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain, even then." Too late, he realized his slip._

"If_ you had failed?" The woman paused and bent down towards him again. He winced as she put her index finger under his chin and tilted his head slightly up. "_If_ you had failed?" she repeated, slowly. "Still plotting my untimely demise, hmmm? We'll have to discourage you from such thoughts in the future. " _

_She removed her finger, wagging it in the air as if he were some errant schoolboy. "But enough of that for now." The redhead made a small sound of dismay as the Warden again stood above him as if she did not agree with her leader's decision to keep him alive after that remark. The Warden stared at the archer for a few seconds until the girl shrugged it off. It was very clear to him that the woman who had almost killed him was definitely in charge. She crossed her arms and looked down at him, reassuming her dominant role as the interrogator._

"_Let us proceed. How much were you paid?" She resumed questioning in a semi-bored tone, and the war hound chose that moment to return from whatever it was doing to sniff his leg, before lying down on its haunches a handbreadth away._

"_I wasn't paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely. Or so I understand. Which _does_ make me about as poor as a chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn't for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest." He decided to be completely honest with her after all. What did he have to lose, really? He should be dead by now anyway._

"_So, why are you telling me all this?"_

"_Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."_

"_Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?" she seemed to be finished with her questions, as she squatted down and started rifling through her pack again._

"_Loyalty is an interesting concept." Zevran replied. "If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."_

"_Let's continue this conversation after your shoulder is seen to," she replied, softly. The blonde rogue quickly untied his hands and ankles, then gave him what appeared to be a healing potion. _What kind of person gives healing medicines to elves?_ He hesitated, somewhat shocked and startled by this generosity. She was no fool, and judging by the way she and her followers had slaughtered the pathetic group of bandits, she was definitely not some feeble-minded, delusional do-gooder, either._

"_Drink up!" she urged, a bit more forcefully than was necessary, putting the small vial to his lips. _By Andraste's grace, if it was poisoned… well, it wouldn't matter anyway, would it?_ Zevran gulped the concoction down, again surprised - this time by its pleasant minty taste. He felt better already, the pain having disappeared instantly, and he didn't even jump as she gently braced his shoulder with one arm behind his back, cut the fletching and the arrowhead off, and pulled out the arrow's shaft with a firm, steady hand. She quickly smeared some poultice over the gaping wound and staunched the flow of blood by holding a dressing over it, then grasped his right hand and pressed it firmly over the bundle of cloth on the front of his shoulder so he could hold it in place himself._

"_So…. you're a healer too?" he queried. _

"_No, not really. I just…. I have many skills. You tend to pick up on these things after being on the battlefield so often," she murmured, then reached down to unbuckle his armor._

"_Ah, I must tell you, my dear, it is a wonderful thrill, being undressed by such a beautiful woman so quickly after we just met. And I haven't even seduced you yet!" he joked with her, flirting outrageously._

_She raised one of her eyebrows and smirked a little, a small giggle escaping her as she glanced toward the red-headed girl in her party._

"_You're right, Leliana. I think this one is going to be a handful," she remarked. But the Warden seemed to be in a good mood about it nonetheless. Zevran couldn't help but glance down the front of her light dragonskin armor as she bent over him to help him wiggle out of his leathers and tunic. The boy in the heavy plate mail caught him leering and frowned, an angry scowl marring the young shem's otherwise handsome features. The Antivan quickly forced himself to smile, to show that this was all in good fun._

_Zevran felt that he needed to know where he stood in this situation, so he continued speaking. "Well, here's the thing, I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will." _

_She remained silent as she set a poultice on his entry and exit wound and bandaged him up. He paused for a moment, cleared his throat, then drank a few swallows of water from a flask she presented to him while she waited patiently. "Thing is, I like living. And you, obviously, are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead."_

_He could have sworn that her eyes weren't such a vivid green a minute ago. She bent one knee upward, setting her left arm on her leg before propping up her chin with her hand. "Let me get this straight. An assassin who just tried to kill me has decided he wants to serve me instead. You must think I'm royally stupid. Am I to expect the same amount of loyalty from _you_?"_

"_No, I think you're royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous. Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess. And I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing." _

_She nodded, agreeing as he took another drink of water. The elf continued, "That's not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you're the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I... don't come very well recommended, I suppose."_

_The dog raised its head up and barked once, as if to agree with his words._

"_No, I wouldn't fault you for wanting to survive. Which is why I'm willing to patch you up and send you on your way. But why would I want to accept your offer, hmmm? What use could _you_ possibly be to _me_?" she asked him. _

_The Qunari and the human warrior had both returned from their activities to stand closer to them. Had he been so engrossed in their conversation he hadn't even noticed their approach? The Crow silently cursed himself for his lack of diligence before replying to the warden's question._

"_Why? Because _I _am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated… now that my attempts have failed. I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors, no?"_ _He watched as her eyes widened at his last words and a smile lit up her features. _Was this actually working?

_She reached into her pack again and started to put away some of her supplies. "Oh? Bed-warming sounds nice." The redhead made an exasperated 'tsk' sound, and the Warden laughed again, as if it was all just some naughty joke._

_At least she seemed to have an easy-going disposition. The Crow knew when to press his luck and when not to, so he continued. "See? I knew we would find a common interest. Or two. Or three. Really, I can go _all night_. I like a woman who knows exactly what she wants, I really do."_

_She laughed again, and continued to gaze into his eyes as he chuckled back at her. Then she deliberately ignored his offer by changing the subject. "I'm sorry to report that your armor has been irreparably damaged, my beautiful assassin," she announced softly, poking one of her fingers through the crimson-smeared tear in it. "But no worries, I will make sure you have new, better armor. You must have the best if you're travelling with me, after all." She smiled again, and he couldn't help but return the smile, this time totally genuine. _

_Zevran felt a spark of real hope in the bottom of his heart, something he hadn't felt in months. Wait….had she just called him 'my beautiful assassin'? By the Maker, he really was a lucky 'sonofabitch', as Taliesen had often remarked. _The Crows send him on a death-wish mission and a lovely Grey Warden not only spares his life, but offers real kindness? _He hadn't felt this alive in years! He marveled at the way she had gently yet efficiently bandaged his chest, shoulder and arm up. Yes, this woman had many skills. They might even have a fighting chance to win against the blight, if she was able to raise an army. No wonder that Teyrn was afraid of her.._

_She surprised him for the fifth time that day by asking him one final question, "What do you want in return?"_

"_Well... let's see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you."_

_Zevran felt himself gasp softly in surprise as she gently touched the side of his face. She looked deeply into his eyes and caressed the left side of his cheek, her soft fingers lingering as she traced his tattoo and then his jaw line with her thumb. Her pupils widened, her lips parted for a moment and - even though he was a Crow and trained to notice these things in the art of seduction so that he could play hard to get and thus add the thrill of the hunt to the game - he felt himself responding in turn, his other arm moving towards her waist seemingly of its own volition. She moved her hand towards the back of his neck, fingers entangling themselves in his hair as she bent slowly towards him, as if she was going to kiss him - before promptly stopping herself. The Grey Warden took a deep breath and looked away from him, then knelt back down on her knees, moving her torso a few inches away from him. _

_Why did he feel so disappointed at not kissing her? Here he had just met this delicious vixen, and he was already enthralled. The Crow narrowed his eyes a bit, caressing her waist before returning his right hand to the ground to brace himself. She looked at him again and he couldn't help but notice that she bit her lip a little, a questioning, hungry, yet hesitant look in her eyes. Almost as if she wasn't quite sure how to react to him. But she was definitely not some shy young girl. And he liked that. So he decided to continue speaking, as if nothing had happened between them at all._

"_And somewhere down the line, if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?"_

"_Very well. I accept your offer."_

_The warrior-boy chose that moment to interrupt. "What? You're taking the _assassin_ with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?"_

_The Crow experienced a brief moment of panic when she replied softly but firmly, "Well no, Alistair. Would you like to dispose of him yourself?" The entire time she said this, she was still looking at Zevran, so she could see his confused expression. She put her index finger towards her lips, as if to silence whatever rebuttal he was about to stammer out, though. As if she already knew what the young Alistair was going to say in response._

_Alistair replied, "I… well, no, I suppose we could use whatever help we can get. Still. If there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."_

"_Hmmph." The Qunari grumbled in response, while the witch crossed her arms and made some flippant remark about checking their food for poisons._

_The redhead, Leliana, stepped forward. "Welcome, Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan."_

_He turned towards her from his spot on the ground. "Oh? You are another companion-to-be, then? I wasn't aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely."_

_Leliana frowned and stepped back a little at that remark. "Or maybe not."_

_The warden smiled again and then spoke loudly enough for her entire group to hear her. "Zevran. My name is Tenniel. And I would be delighted to have you join us as we fight this encroaching blight." She stood up, and his heart soared as she reached down to grasp his right hand and help him up as well._

"_Oh, and by the way – _I'm_ the only one who does the seducing around here, are we quite clear?" she added with an alluring chuckle. Somehow, her teasing sounded more fun and playful than coy, reminding him of Isabella. Whoa, he would have to be careful around this Tenniel. The potion must have been going to his head, because he was feeling absolutely giddy in her presence._

"_Yes, Ser!" He responded with a mock salute and an eager grin. Zevran was feeling brazen and wanted to get into this woman's good graces as quickly as possible. He thought about the oath he had sworn to the Crows so many years ago and improvised: "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you. Until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This, I swear." He finished his oath with a solemn bow, then looked up at her to see her reaction._

_Tenniel was wide-eyed, and nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Well, thank you – I think. Though that hardly seems necessary. If it puts your mind at ease, so be it. I accept your oath. Welcome to our cozy little team."_

_He turned to walk with the party and stumbled a bit, feeling woozy all of a sudden. She caught him before he fell._

"_No quick movements, Zevran. I'll have to patch you up some more when we get to camp and catch up to Bodahn's wagon. I guess even the life of a _beautiful_ assassin lends itself to frequent injury, eh?" Tenniel sounded genuinely concerned for his welfare. Was he dreaming?_

"_You could say that." He laughed, feeling somewhat light-headed._

* * *

><p>True to her word, Tenniel did not give in to his flirtations and proved to be remarkably difficult to seduce. In just a few weeks, he learned to respect her, trust her, rely on her, and care for her as a friend. And now, he cared for her far more than what was wise, especially given the fact that the Crows were still after them. Who had seduced whom? It no longer mattered. <em>Some mysteries cannot be explained.<em>

* * *

><p>Antivan words:<br>_mí corazón_ – my heart  
><em>mi tierra, mi cielo, mi vida<em> - my earth, my sky, my life  
><em>mi amora<em> - my love


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